Christopher
by Aliasscape
Summary: Hush little baby.... An AU story of Sydney, Sark and a blond baby boy told backwards. On Hiatus
1. In the dark of dawn

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or it's characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.   
SUMMARY: _Hush little baby..._  
For CQ's challenge so note: **This story goes backwards.**  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst/Mystery  
SPOILERS: This is 2nd Season AU story, that spins off just after they took down the Alliance in Phase One. Everything post the kiss didn't happen.  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_A/N: Huge thanks to Chim and Prl. For telling me when this fic makes sense, and when it doesn't ;)_  
  
**CHRISTOPHER**  
by Aliasscape  
Copyright 2003  


**Part 1: In the dark of dawn...**  
  
Sydney stroked a small head of white-blond hair ever so gently, singing softly. _"...sleepyhead, close your eyes....mother's right here beside you...I'll protect you from harm, you will wake in my arms. ...Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear....Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear."_

The small boy's chest was rising and falling steadily. He was finally asleep. She covered him with the rough green blanket, rubbing his belly a moment longer. She stared at the peaceful face of the two and half year old. She almost smiled, taking comfort in how calm he looked. 

She rose and moved several paces from the cot. She stared at the small room, with peeling green wallpaper and ugly mustard colored carpeting. She sunk into a seat on the floor, unable to stop the tears that filled her eyes. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. What had she done to their lives? They could have been in Europe. 

Why did she think she was better off protecting him on her own? It wouldn't have been so horrible to live in a house with guards, even with Sark, if it meant protection. But it meant moving with little notice. Leaving where she had finally found herself comfortable. Severing ties that she had just reformed after all this time. 

She wiped her wet face and looked into the child's face again. "We're going to be okay. I promise." She pulled her knees to her chest and put her head down. But she was still awake when the boy suddenly tensed and whimpered in his sleep. She climbed into the bed, resituating the blanket around both of them and hugging the child close to her. She sighed, but before she closed her eyes, she whispered three words softly. 

_"I'm sorry, Christopher." _

9 hours earlier  
It didn't feel empty. 

It was as if they had gone on vacation and would return shortly. The air conditioning was still set to cycle on and off. There were still dishes in the cupboard and even the sink. The refrigerator was full of food. Plants sat by windows with their curtains pulled back and still required watering. There were toy cars and video tapes of animated movies scattered across the living room. 

He headed into her bedroom. There were still clothes on hooks and in drawers. The bed was neatly made. Her perfumes, make-up, jewelry all still sat on the top of her dresser. Her shoe collection spilled out of the closet. The room still smelled like her. 

It didn't seem possible that she had just left. He expected her to enter the house again and any moment with groceries, or dry cleaning. Instead, there was nothing for him. Not even a note to say goodbye. 

He exited her room and walked into first door on the right. He a deep breath before he pushed into the next room. A half finished Lego tower in the middle of the floor looked as though it had been abandoned only moments before. Stuffed animals lay beside the single bed with a comforted . A plastic drill and hammer sat on the hard plastic child's work bench in the corner. 

He sat down on the bed and looked around the room. It had never looked so comfortable before. But it was easy to see why the boy loved it there. Or rather, why he had loved it. It didn't seem likely this room would ever be used again. 

He stood up, leaving the room undisturbed. He would make it safe for them to come back. And then, he would find them. 

_13 Hours Earlier_  
The sun streaming in the windows right into Sydney's bedroom refused to be ignored, despite the ten minutes she had before her alarm would actually be going off. She attempted to breathe in deeply, but realized there was weight on her stomach. She squinted down at the small head of white hair, resting on her so peacefully. 

She stroked the hair gently. "Hey," she said softly, not wanting to startle him. "It's time to get up." 

He rolled over, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and stretched like a baby bear. His round blue eyes opened. He looked over at her and grinned sleepily. "Mama." She sat up and he reached out and wrapped his arms around her neck. 

"We have to get ready if we're going to be on time today," she informed him as she climbed out of bed. She held him back so he could look her in the eye. 

"Daddy?" he asked, hopefully. 

Sydney nodded, slowly. Absently. "Yes, today we'll go see Daddy." She smiled, sadly, then headed down the hallway towards the kitchen with him padding behind her. 

She was unfastening him from his car-seat two hours later. He hopped out of the car while keeping a tight grip on her hand. She held two small bouquets in her opposite hand. She closed the car door behind them and they started across the cemetery. It looked so healthy and green. The sky was a perfect blue. She glanced down at him. He was getting used to this. He no longer mistook it for a playground in which he got to run around. He didn't pull away from her hand at all. 

"First stop," she said, gently. They halted and she released his hand long enough to lay down her first bouquet. She brushed off stray leaves and glass clippings from the gravestone. 

"Danny," the boy said, pointing and Sydney nodded. He watched her finished clearing around the gravestone respectfully, then tugged at her shirt. "Daddy?" he asked hopefully. 

She realized he was still too young to be expected to wait very long. She stood up, took his hand and they started up the gravel path through the cemetery. He pointed out all the flowers and bugs along the way. "Bird? Bird!" he exclaimed with the most excitement. 

They came to stop at a second plot and Sydney placed her second bouquet. She ran her fingers across the curves of the letters that spelled out "Michael Vaughn." Then, she rose and stepped back. The boy surprised her when he stepped up to the stone. He kissed the top of it and then looked back at her waiting for her reaction. 

Sydney blinked back tears at the child's small gesture. She nodded at him approvingly, knelt down and hugged him. He wriggled out of the embrace after only a few seconds, his eyes lighting up. 

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running towards a figure sheltered in the shade of a tree. Sydney turned slowly, watching Sark scoop the boy into his arms and move out of the trees. 

"I can take him for a walk if you would like more time," Sark offered. 

Sydney glanced back at the grave. "I've learned that no matter how long I spend here, it won't ever seem like enough time." She stepped away from the plot. 

"How's he been?" Sark questioned, nodding to the boy. 

Sydney looked thoughtful. "Better. Fewer nightmares. He's got a great appetite. He says something new everyday." 

"And you?" Sark questioned. 

Sydney rubbed her arms as though chilled. "Better," she said with a half-hearted smile. "Fewer nightmares, better appetite." More honestly, she continued, "Having him to focus on--it helps." 

Sark ruffled the boy's hair and smirked. The child giggled. 

Sydney laughed lightly. "So, I'll see you two back here in a couple hours." 

Sark's expression immediately became more serious. "Sydney, we need to talk." 

Sydney stiffened. "About what?" she asked, cautiously. It had been over a month since they'd last spoken. It was always that long between visits, but he usually at least called more often than that. 

Sark repositioned his son upon his shoulders. "I want you both to come with me." 

"Come with you, where?" 

"To my house in London." 

Sydney frowned at him. "Our home is here. He's finally starting to adjust. We're not going to move now." 

"Sydney, that is not a decision for you to arbitrarily make." 

A hurt look passed over her eyes. She reached up and grabbed the boy down from his shoulders. "You come by once a month, and spend a few hours with him. You really have no idea what he's like, what his life is like. How can you be sure this is the right thing to do right now?" 

"It will be safer, for both of you," Sark insisted. 

Sydney hugged the child closer. "Last visit, you said things were fine. That you were making major progress. Now, it's suddenly not safe." She turned to leave. 

"Sydney!" Sark protested. "You knew when we started this arrangement, it wouldn't last forever." 

She spun back around to look at him. "It hasn't been forever. It's been a year! One year. What changed?" 

Sark held out a folder to her. She didn't even reach for it, but she scanned the page he'd opened it to with her eyes. "You want us to move over this? Is that even about me?" 

"I don't have confirmation, but I believe that it is." 

"When you _get_ confirmation, you let me know," she responded. 

"Whether you are willing to come or not, I plan on taking him," he nodded towards the child, "with me before I leave tonight. I'm not willing to take risks with him. And it surprises me that _you_ are. Especially after everything's that happened." 

Sydney gave him a debating frown. "What time tonight?" 

"Midnight." 

She nodded. "He'll be ready." 

"Just him?" Sark questioned, with a raised eyebrow. 

Sydney stiffened. "I guess you'll see when you get there tonight." 

___  
_Thoughts and reviews welcome and appreciated._


	2. In the tears of truth

_A/N: This part is for Chim, for staying up and listening to me ramble and betaing and musing and test reading and...basically thank her for everything good about this part._

**Part 2: In the tears of truth...**

_2 Days Earlier_  


Sark pushed back from his computer at an urgent knock on the door. Then, the head of a dark haired agent peeked in. "What is it, Dominic?" 

The agent moved inside with his laptop in hand. "I've been reviewing the information brought back from the raid in Budapest. I've come across something unusual." 

Sark watched expectantly as Dominic set up the laptop on his desk facing him. "Tracking reports for one of their operations," Sark noted. 

"Yes, sir. A Project Mnemosyne. It seems the project has only been active the last year, but the reports list dates that don't match the dates of any operation we've accredited to them in the past year." Dominic paused uncomfortably. "It mainly focuses on two subjects, codenamed Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. We're still decrypting files and piecing together what was damaged. I haven't been able to tie anything concretely but..." 

"But you believe it's possible these reports are about Sydney Bristow," Sark finished. 

Dominic nodded. "The reports have been more frequent in the last month, it seems. As if there is some important event about to take place in the coming weeks. Would you like me to start organizing a team to bring them in--" 

"No. Not yet. I'll be going there in two days myself. I don't want Sydney alarmed. In the meantime, get this analyzed. Bring me confirmation. I want to know exactly what this project is about." 

"Yes, sir." 

_36 Hours Earlier_  
Sark shoved open the door to the stairwell and began a quick descent. The door burst open behind him and he could distinctly hear two pairs of footsteps pounding down the flights behind him. He heard the ping of bullets ricocheting off the metal railings lining the steps. 

He lifted his comm. "I'm coming out the east exit," he said, hurriedly. 

"Copy that." 

He rounded yet another corner. He pulled his own weapon and fired twice behind him. "Prepare to detonate quadrant four charges on my mark." It barely slowed his pursuers. 

"But sir, aren't you in--" 

He could see the exit, two flights ahead of him. "Now," he ordered. He scrambled down the remaining flight, jumping to the landing. 

There was a roar from behind him. The screech of twisted metal. Then the crashes of concrete colliding and crumbling. 

He kicked opened the exit door moving to the side of it just as dust and smoke burst out of the building behind him. A screech of tires drew his attention as a car halted just in front of him. He brushed cement dust from his hair and climbed inside. 

"The transfer of the database was successful," a young blond man informed him from the front seat of the car. 

"Excellent, Micah. Detonate the rest of the charges." 

The driver slammed his foot onto the accelerator, bursting through the locked gates and getting back out onto the road. "We lost contact for hours. What happened? Sir, are you all right?" Micah questioned. 

The ground rumbled beneath them. In the rearview mirror, they could see billowing clouds of smoke, fire and ash behind him. 

Sark smirked. "Never better. Give Dominic our ETA. I want teams ready to analyze the data the second we arrive." 

_5 hours earlier_  
"Intel indicates that we need to access a terminal on the third floor. I will access that terminal. Ivan and Reese will place the explosives at these locations and then get out. If at any time you you see this man, his name is Dr. Mironov." Sark held up a photograph. "I want him taken for questioning. Micah, be ready to receive satellite upload and prepare for extraction. Are there any questions?" 

Micah hesitated. "You didn't mention a source on how we came to locate this building." 

Sark stared at him. "No, I did not. Let's move." 

The teams began scaling a gate that surrounded a five-story warehouse. Ivan disabled security, and Sark and Reese disabled the guards at the north entrance. Once inside, Ivan and Reese immediately got to work at setting charges. 

Sark moved stealthily up a stairwell, keeping an eye out for any other possible guards as he moved up to the third floor. He exited the stairwell into a nearly empty hallway. The third floor was set up with cubicles. He removed a PDA from a pocket in his gear. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, quickly calling up a central database. "Upload in progress," he said into his comm. 

"Receiving," Micah chirped back. 

Sark glanced at the display screen to track the progress. Suddenly, a hiss came from overhead. He glanced up in time to see a white cloud coming from the air vent in the ceiling. Then, his vision blurred. 

When he refocused, he realized he was in a sitting position. His head pounded, and he was no longer in front of a computer terminal. Instead, he was secured in a chair in a large open area. There was a rush of feet towards him. 

"Mister Sark, I must say your arrival here was a most pleasant surprise." 

Sark focused on the speaker. It was a dark haired man at who had small round glasses and a beard. He smirked. "Mironov, happy to oblige." He assessed himself. His tactical equipment was on a table on the opposite side of the room. 

"And you've heard of me as well." The man stared at him with a dark calm. "So, I understand we have a mutual friend." 

Sark tilted his head. He realized he still had his watch. He carefully forced out a small lock pick that he'd embedded in the strap. 

"Why, Sydney Bristow. I'm sure you must recall her," Mironov responded. "We haven't spoken in some time actually, so she might not remember me." 

Sark looked him in the eye. "I assume we have business." He forced the pick into the lock of the restraints. 

"Business," a smile crossed the older man's face. "Of course. My superiors are celebrating your capture as we speak. They have big plans for you." 

Sark nodded, feeling the click but not moving his freed hands for a moment. A door opened and Mironov glanced over. A man simply nodded. 

Mironov smiled. "Arrangements for your transport have been completed." 

Sark stiffened as two guards entered the room and started towards him. 

Mironov exited through the side door. 

As soon as the guards neared him, Sark leapt from the chair and flung it at the first guard, knocking him to the ground. Stunned, the second shouted for reinforcements. Sark disabled him with a kick then darted across the room to grab his gear. More guards filed into the room. He only had the opportunity to grab his gun and fire several shots in their direction, before escaping into the stairwell. 

_1 month earlier_  
"Now?" the boy looked up at his father hopefully. 

Sark nodded with a smirk. 

The child grinned and darted out of the kitchen. Sydney was seated in a living room window seat, in jeans and cotton gray shirt. She looked down and smiled at him. "You're back. How was swimming with Daddy?" 

He placed his hands behind his back, grinning at her. "Fun," he answered. He still wore the red swim trunks he'd put on several hours before. They were only slightly damp. His white hair was nearly dry. His cheeks were rosy. Sark had wanted her to come with them, but she'd told him she didn't feel up to it. 

She turned away from the window. "Did you eat lunch?" 

The child shook his head. "Come here!" he finally said, jumping up and down towards the door. 

Sydney stood and started to follow him curiously. "What do you want me to see?" 

He tugged on her hand and she let him lead her out of the house for the first time all day. The bright afternoon sun beat down on her immediately. He tugged on her eagerly to come down the steps and into the yard. 

She looked around, realizing who she didn't see. "Where's your father?" 

She paused as the grass ended and they reached the sand. She noted a boat at the end of the dock. She let the child's hand go, and he took off exuberantly across the sand and up the dock. She took it a little more slowly and paused on the edge of the dock. 

Sark stood on the boat, wearing khaki pants and button down white shirt. He lifted the boy back onto the boat, then held out his hand to her. 

She gave him a suspicious look. "What is this, exactly?" 

He gestured towards a blanket spread out on the small deck. A basket sat beside it. "Lunch," he said, simply, a twinkle in his eye. With a slightly more serious look, he continued, "I thought you might need something to take your mind off yesterday evening." 

She accepted his hand and stepped onto the boat. She settled on one of the seats and wrapped her arms around the boy while Sark started the engine and moved them away from the dock. A ways from shore he turned off the motor and dropped anchor. He immediately moved from the controls to the blanket and began spreading out lunch. He laid out sandwiches, plates, cloth napkins, a couple of juice boxes of grape juice and wine which he poured into two glass goblets. 

Sydney grabbed the child's t-shirt from one of the benches and put it on before they also moved to the blanket. "When did you have time to do all this?" 

Sark smirked. "It was a short swim." He winked at the child, who giggled. He finished spreading out the food, scooped up the kid and took his seat, placing the child in his lap. 

Sydney shifted uncomfortably, eating rather slowly. Sark ate normally, mostly interacting with his son. He'd glance at her every so often, but he didn't say anything. There was just a concerned look in his eyes. "Ready for dessert?" he finally questioned. 

"What's for dessert?" 

Sark whispered in the child's ear. The boy leapt up and moved over to the basket. He pulled out two white pints and spoons. "Ice cream!" 

He returned handing one carton to Sydney. "Thank you," she said, taking it slowly. 

The boy started to smile, but then frowned and stared at her. He moved closer and pointed to one of the raised three quarters sleeves of her shirt. "Mama, owie!" he exclaimed, pointing to bruises on her arm just above the elbow. 

Sydney blinked and pulled her sleeve back down. "It's all right," she told him softly. "Just eat your ice cream." 

The boy frowned and looked at his father. 

Sark nodded. "Go on," he urged. 

The child gave searching looks at the both of them, then sat down and dug into his ice cream. A passing boat caught his attention and he turned to watch it. 

Sydney blinked, set down the ice cream and took several deep breaths. She could feel Sark watching her intently. She turned away. "I'm fine." 

He got to his feet and moved to stand behind her. "I know you want to be fine." He embraced her from behind. 

"I just want to enjoy the rest of the today." She glanced up at him. "When do you have to go?" 

"Tonight," he responded. "But I'm all yours until then." 

She smiled, then giggled as the boy wiggled his way between them. She pulled the child into her lap and tickled him. Sark sat down beside her. "How do you feel?" he questioned. 

The child stopped moving in her arms and looked at her with the same look as his father. She glanced down a moment and then looked Sark in the eye. She took a deep breath, then smiled. 

"Safe." 

_11 hours earlier_  
It was a whimper that startled Sark from his vigil beside his son's bed. He sat up straighter. He'd stepped into the room to check on him, but he hadn't meant to fall asleep there. He looked over. The boy was completely out, sleeping on his back. His arms and legs were lazily outstretched, pouty lips pursed. His breathing was soft and even. He couldn't have been sleeping more comfortably if he was at home in his own bed. Sark resituated the light sheet over the child. But then the whimper came again. 

He realized it was from the next room. He exited the boy's room, closing the door all but a crack, and pushed open the door to Sydney's room. She flailed and whimpered in her sleep as if waging battle with a wild creature. He stepped further into the room cautiously. It pained him to watch her suffer. He couldn't help but feel that he caused her nightmares this time. 

He moved in closer and leaned over her bed. He grabbed one of her wildly moving arms. She squeaked, shrinking away. Then, her other hand came flying towards his face. He caught it, and forced both of her hands back against the bed. "Sydney," he called, quietly. "Sydney!" 

Her eyes popped opened and she looked him right in the eye. She was breathing rapidly and her eyes searched his face as if confused. He let her go and sat down at the edge of her bed. "You were dreaming." 

She sat up slowly and nodded. She swallowed, and tried to slow her breathing. "I woke you," she stated. Her eyes flew to the door. "Did I wake--" 

Sark shook his head. "No, he's fine." 

She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

She shivered and let her hands slide down her face. "Sometimes I close my eyes and I'm back there. Somehow I've messed up, and it's just me and him," she nodded towards the door. "And it's all happening again. And it never feels like a dream. It feels...like it felt the first time. It hurts just like the first time. And this time around, everything they ever threatened me with happens. And I just know, if I'd spent another second there, or if it ever happened again--" 

"It's not going to happen again. What you did tonight, it's going to help me stop them." 

She looked away and then back at him. "But there are still things I haven't told you." 

"You've told me enough for one night," he responded. 

She frowned, determined. "But--" 

He placed a finger to her lips. "Sydney, please. All that matters right now is that you're both here and you're safe." 

She stared at him, frozen. A light abnormal laugh fluttered out of her. Then, she fell against him. He almost thought she had fainted, but he heard the cries tumble out of her. He moved further into the bed, his back resting against the headboard. "Sydney, I'm sorry." He'd thought the words would be comforting to her. 

She raised her head almost immediately. She swallowed a cry and whispered, "No, it's not you." Her own expression immediately became apologetic. She touched her hand to his face. "I just...always feel like everything is a second from falling apart." Her chin quivered. "I don't think I remember what _safe_ feels like." 

He looked her in the eye and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She shut her eyes momentarily. He moved his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head towards him. "You are safe," he whispered. He pressed his lips to hers gently. She was unresponsive at first, and he started to pull away. But after a second, she relaxed and started to kiss him back. 

_4 hours earlier_  
The light in the living room window drew him to the room as soon as he arrived. As he slowly advanced into the room, he found she was asleep in a chair, curled under a blanket, a book in her hand. She looked closer to thirteen than she did to thirty. Had she been sleeping long? He was tempted not to disturb her. But as soon as he took another step forward, she turned her head. She blinked her eyes open and calmly looked up at him. She checked her watch. "You're late," she said, with a slight grin. 

He returned it with a sly smile. "I had some last minute things to take care of." 

She nodded and sat up straighter. She placed her book on the side table beside her chair. "What was so urgent that I had to get out here right away?" 

Sark glanced towards the interior of the house. "Did you bring--" 

"Yeah, he fell asleep an hour ago. He was looking forward to seeing you, so he wasn't really that interested in going to bed. It was quite the battle." 

It was probably better the boy was asleep, he realized and gave her a crooked smile. "He'll see me tomorrow." 

Sydney smiled, then looked expectant. "So....?" 

He sighed. She looked so peaceful and at ease. He hated that he was about to completely ruin that. He held up a folder. "My team's been making progress. Stills from surveillance footage from a variety of suspected operations, as clear as we could possibly get all the faces. I need you to tell me if you recognize anyone." 

Her face changed immediately. She looked at him searching, her brown eyes darting quickly from the folder to his face and then back again. "Now," she stated. Her face expressionless, but he could have sworn her voice quivered. 

"The more we know about what we're up against, the sooner we'll be able to defeat them." He gave her a pointed look. "The sooner you'll be safe." 

"I know that." She became engrossed in pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "I just don't know if I can do this right now." 

"It's been almost a year, Sydney," he stated, cautiously. 

That got him an angry look. "That doesn't make it any easier," she spat back at him. 

He watched her carefully go back to needlessly resituating the blanket. "It will be better for you not to try and keep all inside." 

"Now you sound like my father." She heaved a heavy sigh and blinked. She stood up, took the blanket and moved to the couch. She nodded towards the coffee table in front of it. It was empty, save a pad of paper and a pencil. "I'll tell you what I can. But a lot of it, it's still just a blur. I may not recognize anyone." 

He placed the folder on the table and sat down beside her. He opened it and turned the first photograph towards her. "Take your time." 

She stared at the right profile of an Asian man with long hair and goatee. He was loading crates onto a truck. She stared at the face several minutes with a thinking frown. "No. He doesn't seem familiar." 

He turned the photograph over and revealed the one underneath. This one was of a man inside vehicle. He had light hair and dark eyes. He had one hand on the wheel and the other holding cigarette out the window. He was frowning, looking impatient. 

Sydney nodded slowly. "Yes." 

Sark lifted the picture closer for her to see. "What do you remember about him?" 

Sydney diverted her eyes from the picture to a spot on the carpet. "He brought our meals sometimes. He was never in a good mood. He wasn't...in charge of anything. Just a guard. Just listened to orders." She was silent a moment. "Bronson. They called him Bronson. That's...it. That's all I remember about him." 

The next picture had two men standing outside a building conversing. One held an envelope and was wearing a leather cap, and a leather jacket. The other held a briefcase and was wearing a suit. He was balding. 

Sydney stared at the picture in complete silence for several moments. But when he looked at her, her eyes were darting back and forth, and she was holding her breath. He reached his hand out and enlaced it in hers. She gripped onto it tightly. "Him." She pointed towards the older man with one finger of her free hand very briefly, then tucked her hand against her side again. 

"He....he spoke with a French accent." She closed her eyes, thinking. "He usually wore a lab-coat. He...he handled...the drugs." When she opened her eyes, they were glassy, but they held back any tears. She kept her voice low. "I don't know if I ever saw him not holding a syringe." 

"And the other man?" 

Sydney barely glanced at the picture again. Her grip on his hand tightened but she shook her head. "No. I've never seen him." 

The next three photographs Sydney had no reaction to. She didn't recall a brown haired woman, or another Asian man or a short, stout man with glasses. She released his hand, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her head on hands, starting to seem bored. 

As he turned to the next picture, she gave it a once over before looking at him. She managed a small smile. "I did make dinner, if you're hungry. I could fix you a plate." 

He did wonder what she'd made. But he also wondered if she was just trying to keep from looking at more pictures. "Perhaps when we take a break in a little while." 

She sighed and finally gave the new picture a good look. A dark haired man at the counter of a bank. They had gotten an excellent picture of him looking almost directly at the camera. He had small round glasses and a beard. 

She froze. Then, she swallowed and nodded very slowly. 

"Sydney?" He reached for her hand to calm her, but she shrunk away, inhaling sharply several times. 

Sark stared at the man in the picture, staring into the face. He tried to imagine the man who was smiling so brightly, the way Sydney must see him. Powerful. Intimidating. "Who is this?" 

Sydney grabbed a nearby pillow from the end of the couch and just hugged it. She blinked rapidly trying to stop tears, but couldn't. He wanted to just reach out and hold her but she obviously didn't want to be touched. 

She shuddered and pushed the picture away, her eyes shooting daggers. "He called himself a doctor," she whispered, the disgust clear in her voice. Her jaw tightened. "But he seemed to only know one type of treatment." Her entire body trembled. She turned to him, her eyes almost pleading that he decide that no more details were necessary. 

He regretted not being able to give in. "What else can you tell me about him?" 

She lowered her head and blinked. "I saw him whenever they felt I wasn't being cooperative enough. I...never heard his name and I couldn't...place his accent but." A distant look passed appeared in her eyes. "He thought I was still out and....he was speaking Hungarian on a phone..." She sniffled. "About moving some equipment to a warehouse." 

"Do you recall anything about the location?" 

She clenched her hands into fists as if in pain. 

He leaned closer to her. "Sydney?" 

She refocused, released her fists and looked at him. "That's all I remember," she said stiffly. 

He tilted his head. "Or all you're _willing_ to remember?" 

She shifted more towards her end of the couch. "It's all I remember right now," she said, shortly. 

He picked up the photograph and looked at it. Calmly, he stated, "Sydney, this doesn't work if you don't even try." 

She turned her head to give him an indignant frown. "You think I'm not trying?" 

He put the picture back down and looked her in the eye. "You're willing to try so far as it doesn't hurt too much. But if you do that, there are things we are going to miss." It came out more matter-of-factly than he intended. 

Her head tilted downward and her hair fell forward, at the very least shielding her face from his gaze. 

"I know you've gotten by these past few months by shying away from anything too painful. It hasn't helped you, and it won't help us right now." 

She took a deep breath and her hands formed into small fists in her lap. "After he mentioned moving the equipment, he turned around." She paused as if needing time to process. "I didn't want him to know I was awake. He didn't realize--at first he kept talking." 

He carefully pulled back her hair from her face, and secured it behind her ear. "What did he say?" 

Her eyes shut tighter, but tears still squeezed their way out. "The equipment was to be delivered to District XXI, Csepel--" She inhaled sharply and her voice lowered to a whisper. "He realized I was awake." Her eyes opened slowly, but she almost looked confused. She reached for a pad of paper from the coffee table and quickly scribbled down the rest of the address. She didn't hand it to him or even look at him. "He just stared at me a moment, continuing his conversation, like it didn't even matter. Then, he put down his phone...and, he...smiled, but with a cold look he normally had in his eyes. And then, he...charged the machine." She held out the paper in a trembling hand. 

He took it it from her slowly. "Thank you," he said. He tried to catch her eyes. "This _will_ help." He glanced over at the remaining pile of photographs. "We can take a break now if you wish." 

She shook her head. "I don't need a break. Let's just finish this." 

He understood her eagerness to just get this over with, but watching her quake beside him made him hesitate. "Sydney, you're shaking." He cupped one of her hands in his own, trying to steady it. 

"I know," she said softly. Admirably, she reached out and turned to the next picture. He felt her relax slightly. "I don't recognize any of them." She turned to the next picture and let out a quiet gasp at the picture of a dark haired man. He was clean shaven, but seemed to be warily watching passers-by in front of building. She straightened. "He was another guard. His English was accented by Italian. He acted as an interrogator at times." Her voice lost almost all volume and he saw her get the processing look on her face again. "The last time I saw him was the day he killed..." 

"Sydney," he cut in. "You don't have to--" 

She frowned. "Why? You told me I shouldn't skip anything just because it could be painful. Or doesn't that apply if it could be painful to you? Don't you want to hear that he's left handed? And about the way he smiled afterwards? I know your expertise with torture is mostly from the opposite side. Here's the chance for you to really find out what's effective." She pulled away. 

He blinked slowly, then arched an eyebrow. "You really want to have _this_ conversation, right now?" 

She resituated the pillow in its place at the end of the couch. "We've been putting it off for months. But fine, what's another hour or two?" She looked down at the coffee table and flipped to the next picture. 

If it would help this move along, he was willing. "Sydney," he began, gently. 

"Don't recall him or her," she said shortly and flipped to the next picture. 

He sighed and watched her. She really just wanted to get this over with. There was no reason to stop her. 

"I only saw him intermittently. I don't think he remained there. He seemed to fly in regularly specifically for the tests. I think wherever he was from was normally a lot warmer. He was always so well tanned. I'd try South America, I think his Spanish sounded Argentinean." She turned to the next picture and stopped. It was of a man who looked like he could be at the most thirty. He was certain he saw disbelief, then recognition flash in her eyes. But she said, "Never seen him before." She reached out to turn to the next picture. 

"Hold on one moment." He pointed to the picture. "You're certain that you don't recall anything about him?" 

She gave him a cold frown and just shook her head. "Nothing." 

She was lying. Of that, he was certain. "Sydney, I know this is difficult--" 

Sydney stood, abruptly. She looked down at him. "No. That's just it. You don't _know_!" she snapped, tossing the blanket carelessly back in the chair. "Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it." 

He rose. "Sydney. I want them to pay for what they did to you." She glanced at him briefly then hugged herself. "For what they did to all of us. In order for me to have the best possible chance to do that, you have to be honest with me. Even if doing so causes you some temporary discomfort, I believe it's worth it to stop them. Now, who is the man in the picture?" 

Sydney turned away, but just stood there facing the wood paneled wall. He heard her inhale sharply and then sobs started to come. 

He placed his hands on her arms just below her shoulders gently. "Please. Tell me what he did to you." 

She ripped away from him and fell against the wall. "Not to _me_!" she whimpered, sinking to the floor. "To--" She couldn't even finish. She curled into the corner as if trying to disappear. 

He blinked and stared down at her, not wanting to believe what she was suggesting. He glanced towards the interior of the house again. 

She could barely catch her breath to speak. "I begged...them. I swore I'd do anything they wanted. But they didn't...they wouldn't...listen." 

He lowered himself slowly to sit beside her. "He's my son, Sydney.... " He trailed off, then turned to stare at her. "Why didn't you tell me before?" 

She looked at him. Her face red, her cheeks soaked, and her eyes looked almost fearful. "Because I wanted to forget. I...needed to forget." She turned away again. "I had dreams...but that man never appeared in any except one. I sometimes thought maybe he never...maybe it never happened, maybe he never existed." 

"What did they do to him?" he questioned, softly. 

"They took him away, a different room. I couldn't even see him. But I heard him start to cry..." Her voice broke and she slumped over. "A pain cry..." She buried her face in her knees. 

He grabbed her arms and made her sit back up. He tried to look her in the eye but she immediately kept her eyes downward. "Look at me," he ordered, forcefully. Her glassy eyes lifted slowly. "Why?" he demanded. 

She hesitated. "I don't--" 

"Don't know? Don't remember?" he interjected, incredulously. "Try, Sydney." 

Her face contorted in her efforts to control her tears. "They didn't explain it. They never explained." 

"Then what did they threaten you with? What did they want you to do?" he necessitated. 

Her chin quivered. "There was nothing. There was nothing I wouldn't have done if they'd asked." 

"How long did it last?" 

"I was separated from him for hours afterwards." She shut her eyes. 

He immediately shook her. "No, look at me. How long--" 

Her eyes shot open. "I don't know!" 

"Why not?" 

She tried to curl up again, but he held her in place. "Because I...I stopped being able to hear him. His crying, it got so loud, I couldn't....I couldn't hear it anymore." 

He released her, slowly. "You disengaged." 

She hugged herself, forcefully gripping her hands on her arms just above the elbow. "There was nothing else I could do." Her fingers rigidly dug deeper in her arms. 

He watched her. "Sydney, stop." 

She didn't seem to hear him. "I was strapped to a table. And they didn't like for me to make noise." Her knuckles whitened in her distress. 

He reached for her and tried to pry her hands from her arms. 

She stared ahead blankly and held her grip. "I'd offered them everything I could think of, but I thought if I cried out...they would have taken it out on him." Her fingernails were digging into the skin. 

"Sydney," he said, carefully. "You're hurting yourself." He began lifting her fingers. 

Her grip tightened instead of releasing. "I just wanted them to release him," she admitted. 

"Let go," he ordered, gently. He took his hands away from hers, hoping she'd at least relax a little, if she didn't feel like she had to fight him. 

She continued, a little louder, but with more distress in her voice. "Or kill me so they'd have no reason to hurt him anymore." 

He watched her face. Then, he placed his hands on hers again. "Sydney, please. Just let go." He massaged her hands with the tips of his fingers. 

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, finally looking up at him. She blinked and finally let tears fall again. "I'm so sorry." 

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the thumb of his right hand. "I don't blame _you_." He gave a slight pull and felt her hands release into his. Her arms were obviously going to have bruises on them in the morning. 

She lowered her head into his lap and he smoothed her hair. She finally started to cry again. _12 hours earlier_  


Sydney finished placing small golden hoop earring in her ear and stepped back from the dresser mirror in her bedroom. She smoothed the calf length, cream summer dress and walked into the kitchen. "I'll be ready just as soon as I find my purse." 

Weiss smiled at her. "Well, you look great, Syd." He nudged the boy sitting at the table on a booster seat. "Doesn't she look great?" 

The child looked away from his crayons and paper. He grinned. "Pretty," he agreed. 

Sydney kissed the top of the boy's head. "What are you two going to do while I'm gone?" 

"We're thinking complete world domination, just as soon as we have lunch," Weiss responded. He was already pulling sandwich fixings from the refrigerator. 

Sydney located her keys and cell phone on the kitchen counter. She gave Weiss a serious look. "Make sure he really eats." 

The boy made a face. "I want apple," he said. 

"Yeah, that's what they all say. Then, they steal your peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Weiss laid out four slices of bread. He grinned at Sydney. "He says this every time I come here. I've lost three sandwiches to Mr. I Want Apple and counting. I'm not falling for it anymore." 

The boy giggled. 

"I know. I'm sorry. he's used to eating whatever I'm having rather than eating his own." Sydney sighed and grabbed her purse off the table. "I think that's everything." 

"Go," Weiss ordered. "We're fine here." 

"You have all my numbers. Don't worry about interrupting me if you need anything." 

"Syd, the whole point of you going to this luncheon is to have some time with Francie. I think we'll leave interruptions to emergencies only." He began spreading peanut butter on two slices of bread. 

Sydney looked at him seriously. "Eric..." 

Weiss sighed. "Yeah, yeah. The kid sneezes, you'll hear about it." 

Sydney nodded, satisfied. She went over and knelt by the child's chair. "See you in a couple hours, Little Bear." The child wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged him back. "You be good for Eric, all right?" 

"Be good," the child promised, with a serious nod. 

Sydney looked up at Weiss. "Thanks again." 

Weiss shrugged. "What are friends for?" 

Sydney headed for the door. 

Weiss wiped strawberry jam onto the bread and looked through the gap between the cupboards where he could see the child at the window. "Just you and me." 

He sliced the boy's sandwich into four pieces and sat down at the table. "So...what shall we do?" 

He was startled to hear the key in the lock and Sydney re-entering. "Uh huh, thanks Francie. I'm so glad you understand." Sydney was speaking on her cell phone, a pile of mail in her hand. She discarded all but some card, she placed in her purse on the counter. "I'll see you when we get back." She turned off the phone and turned to him. 

He gave her a curious frown. "What's going on?" 

Sydney looked at him, looking serious. "Something just came up actually. I'm going out of town." 

"Out of town? Where? When?" he queried. He nodded towards the kid. "You still need me to watch him?" 

"No, I'm taking him with me. You guys finish lunch and I've just got some things to get together." She headed off down the hall towards the bedrooms. 

Weiss debated a moment, then followed. "What's going on, Syd?" 

Sydney sighed, as she picked up clothes off the floor of the child's bedroom. "We just need to get out of the city for a bit. I've been planning on renting this beach house and I just found it's unexpectedly available this week. We're just going to go up there, get away. Rest, relax. Actually, my father will probably be thrilled. He thinks I don't take enough time to relax." 

Weiss frowned. "I don't like it when my friends keep secrets, Syd. Not after what happened to Mike." 

Sydney sighed and sat down on the bed. "There's something important I have to do. In itself, it really isn't dangerous. But it'll go a long way towards making things safer eventually." 

He moved in front of her. "Tell me where you're going." 

She looked up at him. "Eric, you don't need to worry. Not about this." 

He gave her an uncompromising look. 

She sighed. "I'll give you one answer. You don't ask any questions. And you don't mention it to anyone, especially my father. Not even if he asks." 

Weiss debated, then nodded. 

"I'm going to see his father all right." She rose and headed into the boy's bedroom. 

Weiss's eyes widened as he followed. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "H-His father?" 

Sydney smiled slightly. "You promised no questions." She pulled a duffel from the child's closet. "Now, you can help me pack, or you can leave." 

Weiss gave her a searching stare, then pulled open a drawer. "Which do you think he prefers? The shirt with fire engines or the puppies?" 

___   
_Reviews welcome and appreciated._


	3. In the scars of yesterday

_A/N: Thanks again to Chimaera for betating, and test reading. And to PRL, for being a wonderful muse, especially with her insights on Sark._

**Part 3: In the scars of yesterday... **

_Six weeks earlier_  
"Sydney?" 

Sydney startled and glanced around the office. She was sitting on a soft gray couch. Several potted plants sat near large windows. A glass of water and a pitcher sat on the table in front of her. She was hugging herself uncomfortably and shifted. 

Across the room sat her therapist. An auburn haired woman in her late forties. She wore a sweater, thin rimmed silver glasses. A pen was in her hand, resting against a notepad. Dr. Burke was giving her a concerned frown. "Did you hear my question?" 

Sydney blinked and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes later than the last time she'd checked. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I guess I'm not really focused enough to be doing this today." She looked down apologetically. 

Dr. Burke put aside her notepad and pen. She sighed. "Sydney, I was surprised when you called me last month wanting to start setting up appointments. Especially when you'd been so adamant before that counseling was exactly what you didn't need. But after looking over the records from your overnight stay at Bayview Mental Hospital, things seemed clearer. Except, when you come in here an hour a week and talk to me, I'm not sure we ever more than touch on the root of the problem." 

Sydney frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." 

The doctor straightened the glasses on her nose. "Some days, we talk about your father and how you feel as though it's a burden for him to be concerned for you. The majority of the time we talk about your son. The two of them seem to be your main reason for coming here. And your concern for yourself seems to extend only so far as it affects them. You don't really seem to come here for you." 

Sydney swallowed and looked at her watch again. 

Dr. Burke debated, then questioned. "What were you thinking about just now?" 

Sydney straightened. "I've been home almost...almost a year. I like being with family, my friends. Having my apartment. Just being a mother. Being normal." She sighed. "But every time things seemed to being coming along well, something happens and I'm reminded how not normal everything is. And I can't help but feel, things aren't going to stay this way." 

"It's normal, after a trauma, to have feelings of uncertainty about how much longer you might live or if your life can ever be good again." 

"What I'm feeling doesn't feel normal." 

The doctor sighed. "Then, why don't you tell about what happened two months ago?" 

Sydney nodded, but her expression went blank. 

_2 Months Earlier_  
He closed the door to the baby's room and headed into the living room. He stood there waiting as the door unlocked and opened. She tensed to see him standing there. She didn't relax as she closed the door, locked it, and shed her coat. 

"I've been waiting an hour," he informed her. 

She looked unimpressed. "It takes amazingly longer to check yourself out of a mental institution than it does to check yourself in." She turned, opened the closet, and hung up her coat. "Don't let me keep you." She headed towards the kitchen. 

He knew it wasn't so much that she wasn't expecting him to follow but rather hoping he wouldn't. "We have to talk about this." 

She turned her back to him and opened a cupboard. "No, we don't." She removed a glass from the cupboard. "You proved your point. I had a horrible weekend. You got everything you wanted, so leave me alone. See you next month." She casually turned on the faucet and filled her glass with water. 

He stepped closer slowly. "I'm sorry about what happened." 

She smirked at him. "Oh really? Are you?" she cooed. Then, she glared at him. "Have you considered the possibility that you caused it?" 

"What I've considered is that it would have happened anyway. And that it was better that I took the action I did, instead of things playing out the way they could have if I hadn't." 

Sydney shook her head. "If you're so certain I'm a crazy, horrible parent, then why did you bring him back to me?" She lifted her water glass and started to drink it. 

"Because I'm not certain of anything," he snapped, annoyed at her for not listening. "I'm concerned for you. I'm sorry you find that so upsetting." 

She lowered the half empty glass, dumped it, and set it beside the sink. "I'm not upset with _you_," she mumbled, as she headed back to the living room. She sunk onto the couch. She hugged herself around the waist, staring blankly into nowhere. 

He sighed and moved to stand just in front of her. "It wasn't your fault." 

A dry laugh escaped her, and she didn't even look up at him. 

He knelt down and took each of her hands carefully into his own. "I know you would control it if you could." 

She blinked and actually looked at him. Her fingers moved and for a moment he thought she was about to dig her nails into his palms. Instead, she squeezed his hands and looked down. "I'm sorry." She shook her head apologetically. 

He tightened his grip on her hands and watched her seriously. "Why?" 

She pulled her hands from his and ran them through her hair. "I'm not like this. I don't...lose my mind. And you..." She glanced towards the baby's room. "You _both_ deserve better." 

He moved to sit down beside her. "I don't expect you to be completely over it. I only wanted you to take of yourself." 

She leaned into him, looking down at her hands. "I just want to forget and move on." 

He put his arm around her and hugged her closer. "I know." 

"What do _you_ do to forget?" she whispered. She looked up at him. 

He looked her in the eyes and ran his hand through her hair. "I don't. I just go on." 

She rested her head against his chest. "When do you have to leave?" 

He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her silky hair. "Perhaps an hour. Would you like to talk until then?" 

She tensed, hesitating. "I don't want to talk. I want to listen. Just tell me about your weekend. Everything you did." 

He sighed. "Sydney, it'd be better if you talk--" 

"Please," she pleaded. "For one hour, let _me_ forget." 

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm a moment. "For an hour," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. 

He began to speak, keeping his voice soft. He felt her start to feel heavier with each moment. It was perhaps only twenty minutes before he realized she had the rhythmic breathing of a person asleep. He stayed the rest of the hour anyway. Then, he moved her carefully, propping pillows under her head, hoping she could still be comfortable without him. He covered her with a blanket, rubbing her back gently, when it seemed like she might be stirring. He watched her several extra moments after she was still. 

Then, he slipped away soundlessly. 

_3 Days Earlier_  
Jack dragged himself from deep sleep to grab onto the phone. It was too late for it not to be important. "Jack Bristow." 

There was no sound a moment, and then a sniffle. "I'm sorry to call so late." 

"Sydney? Where are you?" 

She sniffled again. "I don't--I'm not sure." 

"Sydney, are you all right?" 

There was a distracted pause. "I'm not...sure." 

"_Where_ are you?" 

"The...desert." 

"How did you get there?" 

"I don't know!" 

He could hear that she was ready to cry. "Hold on, I'll have your cell-phone signal traced, all right?" 

"Okay," she whispered. 

He quickly dialed Marshall on his other phone and explained the situation. Marshall gave him instructions and began the trace. Then, he returned his attention to Sydney. "I'll be there to pick you up shortly. Just stay on the line." 

It was a forty-five minute drive to the middle of nowhere, before Jack saw Sydney walking along the side of the road. She was wearing only sandals, cutoff jeans, and the top of a black bikini swimsuit. Her hair was loose, blowing in her face. She was hugging herself, shivering almost uncontrollably. She looked up when she saw him, trudged towards the car and climbed inside. He pulled a blanket from the backseat for her. 

"Sydney, what happened to you?" 

"I don't--remember," she admitted. Her eyes were wide and full of tears. "I just want to go home." 

He stared at her, not shifting the car back into drive. "Sydney. Where's the baby?" 

Sydney stared at him. "I woke up and he wasn't...he wasn't with me." 

"Woke up? You were laying out there in the desert?" Jack questioned. 

"No, I...I wasn't laying down. I was just...walking and suddenly realized I didn't know where I was, or why I was there or...." She stopped talking and just stared at her shaking hand. 

Jack reached out and held her hand steady. "What else do you remember?" 

A familiar haunted look passed over his daughter's brown eyes. 

"I remember...being terrified." 

"Of what?" 

"No, there was nothing there...today." Her face contorted as she tried to concentrate. "I remembered being terrified...before." 

He drew his hand away slowly, looking disappointed. "You had another flashback." 

Sydney's lip quivered. "I think so." 

Jack frowned at her. "Haven't you been taking your medications?" 

"I've been sleeping okay. The dreams have barely been...." 

The hard stare he was giving her forced her to swallow instead of finishing. 

Sydney ran her hand through her hair, uncertainly. She blinked as if her current surroundings had just registered and turned to her father. "We have to find him." 

"We will," he said, flatly. He shifted the car into gear and turned to head back to the city. 

He got her back to the house and settled. Then, he called Weiss, who arrived less than half an hour later. 

Weiss tapped on the door lightly, uncertainly. Jack opened the door with a heavy sigh. 

"I came as quickly as I could," Weiss said. "Where is she?" 

"On the couch," Jack answered softly. 

Weiss looked over. She was curled up tightly, possibly asleep. He kept his voice low. "Look, no one seems to know anything except that she went to the beach today. Her car was still there, with all the stuff she'd brought with her today still packed inside. Including stuff for the baby. He at least _was_ there with her. But no one's seen them since. I even checked the apartment in case my some miracle he was there alone, but it was empty." 

Jack's eyes lowered. 

Weiss frowned. "You don't think she had a flashback and just wandered away from him?" 

Jack gave Weiss a hard stare. 

Weiss didn't even want to consider the possibilities. He didn't want to picture that cute kid alone in the dark somewhere. Or being snatched. Or playing in the ocean without any supervision. Or... 

"We have to ask her more about what she remembers!" Weiss exclaimed. 

Jack shook his head. "She doesn't remember. I questioned her nearly the entire ride home. She remembers going to beach. She remembers playing in the water with him. She remembers them starting to build a sand castle together." 

"And after that?" 

"She gets that look in her eyes. She starts to cry and shake. She can't complete a sentence." Jack sighed. "I attempted to make her tell me what she was seeing and feeling. She just stopped talking completely." 

Weiss looked over. "We have to take her to a doctor. Someone who can help her relive whatever happened so it doesn't bother her so much." 

"She refuses." 

"Then, we make her go, Jack." He knew he sounded heartless suggesting it, but this was serious. 

Jack shot him a glare. "That isn't going to help her trust us again." 

Weiss frowned back at him. "Who are you more worried about? Her or the kid? If we don't force something out of her, then who knows what is going to happen to him?" 

Jack sighed. "Every time I let myself believe she's doing better..." His voice trailed off as there were was movement on the couch. 

Sydney sat up and looked at the two of them. They looked back at her. She got up from the couch slowly. Jack moved towards her. "Sydney?" 

She looked around her father's living room and then directly into his concerned eyes. "I don't need anything. I'm just going to use the bathroom." She glanced at Weiss uncomfortably, then carefully walked to the bathroom. Weiss and Jack were silent until she closed the door. 

"So, should I be looking for therapist numbers?" Weiss questioned. 

Jack hesitated but finally nodded. "Go ahead." 

Weiss stepped into the kitchen to call back to the office and get a good recommendation. He was midway through his third phone call when he heard Jack shouting urgently. "Sydney! Sydney!" Weiss walked back into the living room, in time to see Jack kicking in his own bathroom door. 

Jack peeked into the room. When he returned, his face was more serious than usual. "She's gone." 

Weiss swallowed, then quickly made a phone call to get a search team out. 

When he looked up, he found that Jack remained in the exact spot he'd left him. The father was staring at him with a pain in his eyes. He looked lost. 

"Jack?" Weiss asked, carefully. 

Jack didn't even blink. "I thought this was going to stop happening. She was going to get better and she'd be normal again. It was a foolish thought, I know. But I don't think I realized before tonight, just how foolish." 

Weiss swallowed. "Jack, she's going to be all right." 

Jack's face tightened. "If anything, she's worse." His voice was losing its calm. "She is not making a recovery. I fear that it's only a matter of time before..." 

"Before she goes insane?" Weiss shook his head. "Sydney is resilient. I've seen her handle more than I've ever seen anyone handle. She just needs more time to deal with it." 

"She's in pain. A pain she either refuses or is incapable of sharing or letting go of. It's eating her up..." 

Weiss stared a Jack. He just wanted to be able to protect his daughter and Sydney had given him so few opportunities. He hadn't realized how helpless Jack Bristow was beginning to feel. Weiss looked towards the kicked in bathroom door. Sydney was the most important person in Jack's world to him and yet, she wouldn't trust him. She'd run away. 

"We'll find her, Jack." _I'll find her_, he told himself. 

"Almost three and half years ago, I had that same resolve. Despite the last year, I feel as though I never stopped searching." 

Weiss sighed. He'd known this had to be wearing on the elder Bristow, but they were always so focused on Sydney. He was really at a loss as to what to say. He patted Jack's arm, just below the shoulder. 

"When I come back, I'll have her with me. That's a promise." He hesitated, then headed out the door. He sat down in his car, started the engine and sat there a moment. Where to go? Where to begin his search? "All right, Mike. Help me," he whispered. He shifted the gears and pulled out of the driveway. 

It was three hours later that he spotted her. He tried to approach her slowly. She was standing impossibly still on the empty pier, just staring at the water. Or perhaps staring at nothing. He stopped a few feet away, not wanting to startle her. "Sydney." 

She didn't even look at him. Her voice came out low and calm. "If you're worried that I'm planning to jump, don't be." 

He looked her over. She had to be freezing. He removed his suit coat and held it out to her. "What are you doing here? Why'd you run?" 

She hesitated, then turned and took the coat slowly. She looked down as she put it on. "I'm sorry." 

"No, I don't want an apology. I want you to stop carrying the weight of the entire world inside you, and pushing away everyone that tries to help you. Your father is upset--in a way I've never seen him before." 

Sydney turned back towards the water, resting her arms on the railing. "Then, maybe he needs your company more than I do." 

Weiss moved to stand just beside her. He leaned into the railing but turned his head to look at her. "He's worried. We both are. We just want to help you." 

She straightened and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't need any help right now. I just want to be alone." 

"You don't need any help..." he repeated in disbelief. He shook his head. "So you're going to be like this again." 

She gave him a defiant look and walked towards the rail on the opposite side. 

He turned towards her but only followed her a couple of steps. "I know you remember that night, the day of Mike's funeral. I was the last one at your house." Her shoulders hunched. "You started to cry for...what must have been the fifth time that day, and you couldn't stop." She turned around and looked at him, her eyes glistening. "You let me...hold you. And that day, I just knew that I should take care of you. That that would be what he would have wanted." Weiss sighed and moved to stand just in front of her. "And then you just disappeared." 

Sydney tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shifted. She gave him an apologetic look. "Eric, I never meant to--" 

"I know," he interjected. "You just needed to find some closure. But you went off all by yourself--" He sighed and cut himself off. "It just pains me to know the price you paid for that closure. We can't help but want to protect you, because we don't want to go through that again. We don't want to lose you, like..." 

Sydney blinked and a blank expression formed on her face. She looked sideways a moment, and then looked him in the eye fiercely. "They tortured him." 

Weiss frowned. "What?" 

She swallowed and raised her head. "Vaughn. Before they killed him." She raised an eyebrow at him, pointedly. "But you knew that, didn't you?" 

He knew his face was flushing guiltily. "Syd--" 

"I know." She stepped closer. "You were _protecting_ me." She emphasized the word as if it were something horrific. 

He nodded slowly. "You weren't eating. You weren't sleeping. You were barely leaving your apartment It just seemed like it would make you worse." 

Sydney stared at him coldly. "You want to know how I found out?" 

He was silent. She was going to tell him whether he wanted to know or not. 

She tucked her hands further in the folds of her arms and looked down. "They recorded the entire thing." She looked up at him again. "They thought it might be," she blinked, struggling for the word, "_helpful_ for me to watch it." 

"Oh Syd..." He reached for her but she moved back. 

"Your idea of helping, simply left the door open for me to truly get hurt. Just like Vaughn's investigation. I thank you for your concern. And I'm sorry my father is so worried. But I can't have you all trying to take care of me right now. It's very important that I do this on my own. That's why I ran." She turned away. "I'd appreciate it, if you'd just leave now. I don't need your help." 

He stared at her, not liking being pushed aside. "Not even to get your baby back." 

Sydney shrugged. "Maybe I don't deserve to get him back." 

Weiss's eyes widened. For the level of attachment, he'd witnessed, there was no reason for her to be so unconcerned. Unless..."You know where he is, don't you?" 

Sydney shook her head. "No, I don't." 

"But you aren't even going to look for him?" 

"I know I can't find him." Sydney turned and started away from the pier. 

Weiss followed. "Sydney, you aren't making any sense. How can you be so calm about this?" 

Sydney halted and looked down. "I know looking for him is not what I need to do right now." She looked him, pain in her eyes. "Please. I can't answer any of your questions. Tonight, I just need to go home and get some sleep. And tomorrow, tomorrow you can take me to a hospital. Run any test. Do any evaluation." 

Weiss debated. "What are we going to tell your father? Or anyone who asks about the baby?" 

Sydney stared at him, expectantly. "You can tell them anything you want." 

"I'm not going to get an explanation out of you tonight, am I?" 

Sydney's expression didn't change. 

"Fine. Fine. But if I take you home tonight, I'm sleeping on your couch." 

Sydney nodded. "Deal." 

_14 Hours Earlier_  
She wore a white sunhat, large sunglasses, cutoff shorts with a black bikini top. She knelt in the sand, carefully tapping a plastic mold to make the third tower of a sand castle. She set it aside, and the boy quickly dove his small yellow shovel into the sand to fill up the empty tower mold. 

He moved in slowly, walking barefoot on the wet sand that was still kissed by the waves when the tide hit the shore. It seemed a crime to ruin their perfect moment. He was tempted to circle, just watching them for a minute, but then she looked up. Maybe she'd seen his shadow. She pushed her sunglasses out of her face and stared directly at him. Then, she gave a wary glance around the rest of the beach. She sat back on her towel and waited as he approached her. 

"What are you doing here? Our next meeting isn't for two weeks," she reminded him. She read the serious look on his face. She looked at the boy and then back at him. "What's wrong?" She almost looked innocent. 

The child looked up immediately. "Daddy!" He stood up and clung to his father's leg. Sark ruffled the boy's hair and urged him to continue his castle. The child hesitated, then obeyed. 

Sark gave Sydney a serious look. "I wanted to talk to you. When we made this arrangement, you agreed to be honest with me." 

She pulled took off her sunhat and set it beside her. Her jaw tightened and she raised a single eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I'm not?" 

He removed the folder he'd had rolled in the back pocket of his jeans. "I told you, I'd be keeping an eye out." He held it out to her. 

She snatched it from him. "You have something you want to know, then ask me," she said seriously. "You don't have to go around stealing my medical records." 

"You told me you were fine. You didn't even mention this." 

"It's because I am fine. This was one incident," she snapped, defensively. 

"Sydney, this happened in a public place. You draw attention to yourself, you draw attention to him." He nodded to the child still scooping sand into the plastic mold. "That's something that cannot happen." 

Sydney lowered her eyes. "I know." 

"And while you were off in your own little world, _anything_ could happened." 

"I know. I know. It wasn't safe for him." 

Sark knelt down in front of her. "It wasn't safe for you either." 

She placed her sunglasses back on and shifted uncomfortably. "How did you even find out about this?" 

Sark actually seemed to hesitate momentarily. 

"Spying on me?" she questioned. 

"Your father told me." 

Sydney's eyes widened. "When did you speak to my father? And why? I thought we had both agreed that we weren't dragging anyone else into--" 

"It was not my choice. He sought _me_ out." 

Sydney ran her hand across her forehead. "How did he even know to do that?" 

"He apparently decided to investigate his own suspicions." Sark watched the child as he spoke. "We do share a resemblance." 

Sydney smiled nervously. "There's something else you came here for." 

Sark moved silently and scooped up the child, who giggled. "I'm taking him for the weekend." 

Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "You're what?" 

"Sydney, you need the break to take some time to care for yourself." 

Sydney stood up. "What are you talking about? Did my father ask you to do this?" 

"No. He did express concern that you were not focusing on your own health because you were focused on him. But I reached my decision about this weekend on my own." 

Sydney swallowed. "Does it have to be this weekend?" 

"This is the weekend I've arranged," Sark responded. 

"This really isn't necessary," Sydney protested. "I _can_ relax when he's around." 

"Sydney--" 

Sydney hesitated. "At least let me take him home, pack some of his things to take with you. You can pick him up later tonight." 

Sark looked at the child, and brushed some of the sand off of him. "We'll be fine. Get some rest this weekend, I'm serious. We'll be back on Monday." 

She looked almost panicked. For a moment, he wondered if she might try to snatch the baby from his arms, but she sunk back into a sitting a position. "Monday," she whispered, as if unsure her purpose in life until then was going to be. 

"He'll be okay, Sydney," he said softly. 

Sydney flinched as if the words only stung. 

He decided it would be better not to draw this out any further. He turned and walked away. As he was heading back up the bluffs, he looked back. She was no longer sitting there. He frowned slightly. 

The boy squinted back as if he was looking too. "Mama?" he questioned. 

Sark stared at the boy. "You'll see her soon." 

_Two Weeks Earlier_  
Jack Bristow kept his hands in the pocket of his trench coat and his face void of expression as he approached the private plane. The lights of the interior cabin were on. The runaway was wet from rain and a chilly breeze swept across the open area. It was nearing two a.m. 

"Freeze!" came shouts from three directions. 

He halted, and cast glares in the direction of three male guards as they surrounded him, all aiming weapons at his head. "I am here to speak to Mr. Sark." 

The lead guard stared at him. "Who are you?" 

"Jack Bristow," he answered, not even hiding his annoyance. 

The lead guard nodded to the man on his left, who entered the plane. He returned only moments later and nodded back to the lead guard. The lead guard then moved forward and checked Jack over for a weapon. Finding none, he nodded. "Go in." 

Jack moved to the interior of the plane. Sark sat just inside. He put aside a laptop computer and regarded his visitor with a nod. "Jack Bristow. It has been a while." 

A while. That was one way to put it. They hadn't spoken in three years. And it had been at the long abandoned Credit Dauphine building that had formerly held the primary operations center for SD-6. Jack had heard the young agent was now in charge of his own organization, though the CIA had been unable to figure out their exact purpose. 

"Please, have a seat." Sark gestured to the chair across from him. "How did you come to locate me?" 

Jack advanced down the aisle to the seat indicated, but he didn't sit. "I have my ways." His face wore its usual stoic expression, but there was a definitely displeased look in his brown eyes. "I felt it was time we had a discussion of regarding your business with my daughter." 

"Our business?" Sark smirked. "Perhaps you mean, my son?" 

Jack's face tightened. "I've had my suspicions since Sydney's return that the child was yours." 

Sark looked him in the eye. "And you are less than pleased to be correct." 

"I am less than pleased that you are responsible for making an already stressful situation, even more difficult for Sydney." As Jack finished, his voice started to lose some of his normal calm. "She has to rebuild her life, all the while keeping your little secret. Which means she has to lie to her friends, her family, and her government, or risk charges for hiding a wanted fugitive." 

Sark arched an eyebrow. "I did not force these visits upon her. We came to an agreement." 

"Sydney's insistence on even more privacy began four months ago. I'm going to assume you reached your agreement then." 

Sark said nothing. 

Jack eyed him carefully. "I am also going to assume that--whether by being told or your own investigations--you know what she's been through. And that the two of you were not on the best of terms when she first returned to L.A." Jack paused. "What I do not know is exactly how you intend to proceed." 

"Why don't you ask Sydney?" Sark gave him a crooked smile. 

Jack shifted uncomfortably. 

Sark's face mutated into a satisfied smirk. "She doesn't know you're here, does she?" 

Jack's eyes diverted momentarily, before returning to an unrelenting gaze. "Sydney has been reluctant to go into details about anything regarding the years she was gone. She hasn't even mentioned your name. It is doubtful she would answer any questions regarding you." 

"Ah, it's nothing personal, Jack. I'm sure she has her reasons." 

Jack looked down at him. "You intend to continue this way? A visit here or there while Sydney shoulders the majority of the responsibility for this child." 

Sark stood. "Not that it's any of your business, but I made her an offer to take him. She was insistent that they remain together. I've made sure he is no burden to her financially." 

"What about mentally and emotionally? Or does your _concern_ only extend as far as the child?" Jack looked doubtful that concern was even the proper word. "Have you considered that since she has to spend so much of her time caring for him that it might be hindering her recovery, and perhaps to the point of placing your son in danger?" 

Sark looked mildly indignant. "My concern extends to both of them. Sydney takes excellent care of him. That I do not question." 

Jack's head tilted. He reached into his inner coat pocket and removed a folder. He extended it in Sark's direction. 

Sark took it carefully, but didn't open it immediately. 

Jack stared at him. "She's my daughter, taking care of her is my first priority. As you are a father now, I'm sure that is something you can appreciate." 

Sark flipped open the folder. He frowned, confusion and surprise flickered in his eyes briefly. 

"If you are truly concerned for both of them, you will not ignore that information." Jack turned to leave. 

"Jack," he said evenly. He stared at the folder again as he waited for the agent to turn and look at him, then looked up. "I regrettably missed the beginning of my son's life, of his entrance into this world. While the current arrangement is not ideal, it is what I feel to be best for all involved in our present circumstances. But I am not above admitting, I would like to have even more of an opportunity to spend with him, if only to help out in situations such as these." He held up the folder. 

Jack stared at him, silently. 

Sark took a step forward. "I only wished to say that I do appreciate this. And I would not be opposed if you were ever inclined to share information regarding Sydney and my son again." 

Jack nodded ever so slightly. Then, he silently exited the plane. 

____ 

_Reviews welcome and appreciated. And if you're just flat out confused, I'd like to know that too._

Review Replies:  
Lighteningbug: Thanks so much. I work at a daycare mainly with kids 2 and under so I just based the boy in this story on the kids at work. I'm glad he comes across so well. Your thoughts and questions are all so detailed, I love your review. 

Landi104, Grace & Lisa: Thanks for your reviews. 

PentagonMerlin: Yes, everyone tells me this fic is more than a little confusing. But I hope you stick with it. I promise explanations come eventually. 

Kristal: Thanks for telling me about the anonymous review situation. I'm new to posting fanfic here, and had no idea that there was any such feature on anonymous reviews or how it worked. Anyway, I am now accepting anonymous reviews. :) 

JenL: It was a learning experience for me to learn exactly how to write backwards like this. I was lost at first as to how there'd be flow and continuity going backwards. But now I love the suspense I've been able to make even though we go further and further back in time. 

Thanks again for the reviews everyone.:) 


	4. In the shadow of lies

_A/N: As always thanks to PRL and Chim. And thanks everyone for reading. This part is LONG. Really long and there's a lot of time passage._

**Part 4: In the shadow of lies...**

_2 Months Earlier_  
Jack Bristow parked the car and looked at the small crowd that was gathered in front of the mall entrance to the clothing store. He hadn't known what to think when Weiss had called him and told him he needed to get down here immediately. He probably wouldn't have come as quickly as he had, if Weiss hadn't added, "It's about Sydney." 

He pushed through the crowd of people gathered in the parking lot. His attention was immediately drawn to two EMTs in the back of an ambulance. A man in a mall security uniform was being tended to in the back. They were wrapping his face in such a way that it was apparent he had a broken nose. Jack turned away in time to see Weiss pushing his way through the crowd in the direction of the ambulance. 

"Jack!" Weiss exclaimed. He followed the elder Bristow's eyes to the man with the broken nose. "He's going to be fine. I told him all his bills are going to be taken care of." 

The security guard looked over. "You her father?" he questioned. 

Jack nodded carefully. 

"I'm sorry. I hope you're able to get your daughter some help." 

Jack turned his questioning gaze back to Weiss, who led him through the crowd and into the clothing store. "I'm so glad you got down here so fast," Weiss said. "I already sent the baby home with Will and Francie. I thought that was best. She won't let anyone near her." 

"Where is she?" Jack demanded. 

Weiss stopped just a few feet from where several other security guards were standing in front of a dressing room. "Sydney's in there. She's been in there an hour. She won't come out. And she doesn't want anyone to come in." 

Jack looked around the store. He noted that there were no other customers and assumed they'd all been shut out. There were several concerned looking shop girls standing by the checkout counter. What had happened involving Sydney to cause such a commotion? 

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened," the senior agent ordered. 

Weiss sighed and nodded to one of the young women wearing a name tag, standing by the checkout counter. "She says she saw everything. That Sydney was in here, shopping, looking at clothes and jewelry and stuff. And then she says, she suddenly got really strange. She started...getting really agitated and upset. Talking very loudly, shouting." 

Jack swallowed. "Shouting what?" 

"The girl couldn't make it out. But she got worried so she called security." 

"The man we saw outside," Jack stated. 

"Yep, him. He says he tried he to calm her down and when he couldn't, he tried to escort her out. Sydney apparently beat him up and then ran out of the store. But she ran into a car driving by outside." 

Jack frowned. "She was hit by a car? Was she injured?" 

Weiss sighed. "We don't know. It was after that that she came back in and holed up in the dressing room. Another security guard tried to go in there and get her to come out. Sydney attacked him too. He's going to have a black eye tomorrow. Anyway, she left both her purse and the kid out here, so they had contact information. They decided to contact us rather than try to deal with her. I've been trying to explain the situation as 'she suffered a trauma'. They're trying to be understanding, but they really would like to be able to resume their normal store business." 

Jack moved towards the dressing room without another word. 

Weiss followed. "I've already tried to get her to come out. She won't even talk to me." He sighed. "She looked at me like, like she didn't even recognize me." 

Jack heaved a heavy sigh. A part of him had been expecting something like this occur. Perhaps not in a clothing store. He'd been hoping it would have been in a more controlled environment like the house. Will had called him only a couple months before, upset over an incident at Sydney's apartment while he'd been there with Francie. So, Jack watched for signs. There were always hints that Sydney wasn't normal, or at least the normal she had been before, but this, this obviously meant the problem was bigger than anticipated. 

The father made his way past the guards with a hard stare and a stiff hand holding up his badge. He stopped in the doorway and then walked inside slowly. He would have thought the dressing room was empty. Hangers and price tags scattered the floor. The doors to the rooms were mostly swung open. He moved in slowly, and quietly. 

"Sydney." He didn't say it loudly. Not a shout. Just the normal way he said her name when he wanted her complete attention. 

There was no answer. But his instincts told him she was in the rear of the room. He walked over there with slow steps. He could hear her shifting and breathing hard. But he didn't want to open the door without warning. "Sydney," he said again, making it very clear that he was just a few feet away. 

"Daddy!" She sounded five years old. She sounded small and scared. She sounded like she'd just awakened from a nightmare. 

He pulled open the door. She was huddled in a corner, shivering, but she looked up at him the second he entered. She wore a pale, blue, cotton shirt, and khaki pants. She looked quite disturbed. He moved closer and knelt beside her. "Sydney? Are you all right?" 

Pain filled her eyes. "I-I don't know," she stammered. 

He noticed a fresh scrape across her forearm. "Will you allow me to examine you?" 

She nodded, staring ahead blankly. She was still a quivering mass, but pliable. He got her to move her legs away from her chest and uncross her arms. Her hands remained fists, and her knuckles were bruised, likely from the fight she'd put up earlier. 

There was a tear on the lower left side of her shirt that revealed a deep, horizontal gash. _From the car_, Jack assumed. "You need medical care. Can you stand?" he questioned. Her response was to grip onto his forearms and they rose together. 

It was then she seemed to finally look at him. "Dad? What happened?" 

He frowned. He'd been hoping to be able to ask _her_ that exact question. "We're going to a doctor so your side can be checked out." 

Her hand slowly lowered and touched her wound as if she'd never noticed it before. She hissed in pain and nodded. Jack removed his coat and placed it over her. Weiss urged the security guards to give them some space as they emerged. The guards moved, but kept wary stares on Jack and his daughter. 

Sydney glanced around the clothing store uncomfortably. "Eric? What are you doing here? 

Weiss frowned at her. "You don't--" 

Jack silenced Weiss with his eyes. "We're going to the hospital," Jack informed him. 

Weiss nodded. He cast another questioning glance in Sydney's direction then headed out the door. Sydney halted one step beyond the door and stared at the crowd standing in the parking lot, just beyond the fire lane. "Dad?" she asked, slightly panicked. She gripped onto his arm. 

Jack looked at the curious crowd and turned to Weiss. "Can you pull my car around?" He held out his keys. 

Weiss nodded. 

Jack and Sydney remained on the curb for an uncomfortable five minutes. Weiss parked just in front of them and handed the keys over to Jack. "I'll take care of things here and meet you there." 

Jack nodded. He opened the passenger side door for his daughter and closed it once she was inside. He took his place in the driver's seat and headed out of the parking lot. Sydeny was silent on the drive. She held her hands in two small fists close to chest and kept her eyes downcast. He'd expected her to pepper him with questions. But he realized that she had taken up brooding quietly ever since she'd come back. She didn't ask too many questions. Perhaps because she didn't want inquiries made back at her. 

When he parked the car at the hospital, she didn't make a move to get out until he opened her door for her. She followed him inside. Jack was thankful they were serviced almost immediately because of her open wound. 

Sydney remained bewildered all through being stitched up and the administration of pain and anti-infection medication. Jack left her so he could speak with the hospital staff in private when Weiss arrived. Weiss attempted to explain to her what had occurred. She was silent when he finished, laying on the bed with her eyes open, staring blankly into nowhere. 

"So, you wanna tell me what you remember?" Weiss prompted. 

Sydney sat up and looked at him. "Nothing like that," she responded. "It's really just...a blur. Faces, people...things." 

"People at the store?" Weiss questioned. 

Sydney looked down. "No," she admitted. "I mean, I remember going to the store. But for awhile, I swear I was someplace else." 

"Some place like?" 

Sydney opened her mouth and shut it quickly. She turned sideways and hopped off the bed. "I need...I need to get going. Go get my baby from Will and Francie's and go home." 

"Syd...you just had some kind of panic attack or something," Weiss protested. "We need to figure out what's going on. Figure out why it happened." 

She frowned at him. "No. I'm okay now. A little tired. I just need some sleep." 

The door opened and Jack entered. "Sydney, what are you doing out of bed?" he questioned. 

"I'm going home," she informed her father. 

"I spoke with the doctor. They'd like it if you'd stay overnight. They'd like you to speak to one of their therapists about what happened." 

Sydney stared at her father like _he_ was insane. "I'm not staying here when there's nothing the matter with me." 

"Sydney," Jack began in his no nonsense tone. 

"No! I think my life's been disrupted enough for one day." She cast defensive looks in both her father's and Weiss's directions. 

Weiss frowned, concerned. "If we don't find out why this happened, it could happen again." 

Sydney shook her head. "What makes you think I don't know why this happened?" 

"Then by all means, enlighten us," Jack ordered. 

Sydney almost looked like she might accept the challenge. Then, she swallowed. "I've really got to get to Will's before it gets to be late." 

She turned and headed out the door. Weiss and Jack exchanged displeased looks, then Weiss followed her. He caught up to her just as she exited the hospital. "Sydney, please." 

Sydney dug into her purse, searching for her keys, but upon locating them she realized her car wasn't even at the hospital. 

"It's back at your house," Weiss explained. "I had it driven there. I'll give you a ride to Will's and then home, if you want." 

Sydney nodded slowly and let him lead the way to his car. 

They climbed inside, fastened their seatbelts and got on the road. He wasn't used to being so uncomfortable around her. She did seem exhausted so he decided he better continue the conversation now while he still had a chance of winning. "Just promise me you'll go see a doctor tomorrow." 

"I have things to do tomorrow," she responded. 

"Things more important than dealing with that you lost your marbles at the mall? Did you already join an alien abduction support group and not tell me?" 

She shot him a look and he tried to smile jokingly. 

She softened. "Grocery shopping. Kids like to eat you know. And then he needs a haircut. And since today didn't work out, I still need to go clothing shopping for him. If nothing else, he needs new shoes." 

Weiss debated quietly. "I can take him for the day," he offered. 

She shook her head. "You don't have to do that. He's my responsibility. And I probably upset him today." She looked down guiltily. 

"He was a little scared, but Will calmed him in no time." Weiss debated, and swallowed. "But I'm thinking of him too. What if this happens again and your home alone with him? Or your driving a car? Or in some public place not as safe as a mall?" 

She looked out the window and shuddered. 

Weiss remained silent, letting his words sink in. 

She sighed. "If I talk to someone about this seriously, once, then you'll leave me alone about this?" 

He nodded. "Yes. If you go tomorrow." 

She forced a smile. "Who knows if I can even find anyone available tomorrow?" 

"If you can't, I can," he vowed. 

She frowned out the window again. "Okay," she agreed. 

"Okay," he repeated and grinned. "So, this means I get to take the kid shopping all day tomorrow?" 

She cocked her head and smiled amusedly. "That'll be quite the adventure for the two of you." 

He hadn't know what she was talking about until he picked him up the next day. Apparently, someone hadn't informed the twenty month old that he was going shopping all day. Weiss was used to the kid being clingy to his mother, rather than the store adventurer. And he also developed a sincere hate for shoes the second his own were off. 

Weiss was thankful that he was sleeping peacefully when Sydney picked him up late that afternoon. 

"So, how it'd it go with Dr. Burke?" Weiss questioned. 

Sydney looked up at him. "I'm now a walking pharmacy," she said, with mild contempt. She dug prescription pill bottles from her purse. "Anti-anxiety and something to help me sleep." 

Weiss frowned, concerned. "She thought you were that bad?" 

"I simply told her it would be my only session. I guess she thought this was the only way to help." Sydney closed her purse and looked at the child asleep in his car seat. "How'd it go with you two?" 

Weiss frowned, then smiled. "I _thought_ you called him Little Bear as a term of endearment..." He winked at her. 

Sydney grinned. 

_Five Weeks Earlier_  
Sydney jiggled her key out of the lock and pushed opened the door to her darkened apartment. She entered, and Sark followed closely behind her, the baby bundled up in a blanket and jacket in his arms. 

"Is he asleep?" Sydney asked. 

"Not quite," Sark replied. 

Sydney closed the door back and locked it. 

Sark sat down in one of the chairs, set the blanket aside and began unsnapping the boy's coat. The child looked around with big eyes, then he giggled. 

Sydney smiled at child. "I know. It's been three days and two nights since you've been home." 

The eighteen month old peeked around his familiar surroundings and giggled again. He coughed twice afterwards. 

Sydney's smile lessened. She walked over, took the child's jacket, and ran her hand across his forehead. 

"He's fine, Sydney," Sark told her. "The doctors at the hospital said he might still have a few symptoms for awhile." 

"I know," Sydney answered. She took the coat and hung it up in the closet. "Time to get him ready for bed. His--" 

The phone ringing interrupted her. She plopped her coat and prescription bag in a chair. "His pajamas are in the dresser in his room. Top drawer." Sark scooped up the boy and headed for the child's bedroom as she grabbed the cordless. "Hello?" 

"Hey, Syd, it's me. I heard you got released today, so I thought I'd check in." 

"Hey, Eric. We just got in the door." 

"Then, you haven't seen it yet." There was a grin in his voice. 

Sydney glanced around her apartment. "Seen what?" 

"You'll see. There's a surprise." 

Sydney peeked into the kitchen and dining room, then headed down the hall to her bedroom, with the phone still pressed to her ear. "You know the key you have to my apartment is for emergencies. Not so you can leave me surprises." 

"Who said the surprise was for you?" Weiss responded. 

Sydney halted and looked through a crack in the baby's room. Something immediately caught her eye. "You bought him a twin sized bed..." she realized. 

"The crib is dismantled in your hall closet." 

"A regular bed!" she exclaimed, grinning, heading towards the closet. She peeked into the closet to confirm the location of the crib, then closed it back. "Eric, you didn't have to." 

"Yeah, well, when you mentioned it yesterday morning. About wanting to get him one when he was out of the hospital. I just thought it was something I could help with." Less seriously, he continued, "Now, if you don't like it, I'm going to be crushed." 

"Of course I like it," Sydney replied. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. So, I'll probably break into your house tomorrow and make dinner." 

"Eric!" 

"You've had a busy week. I'll bet you have zero idea what you're having for dinner tomorrow." 

Sydney took a moment to realize she didn't. "All right, all right. See you tomorrow. Good night." She clicked off the phone and headed back to the baby's room. 

Sark had just finished pulling a pajama shirt over the child's head. 

Sydney smiled. "That was Weiss, wondering what I thought of the new bed," she stated, gesturing with the phone. 

Sark let the boy's hand go and the child scrambled across the bed. He rolled over once then stood up on it and giggled. "He seems to like it," Sark answered. 

Sydney smiled a little. "So--" She frowned slightly as the phone rang again. She checked the call display. "My father," she stated. "Maybe try a story?" she nodded towards the bookshelf. She stepped back out of the baby's room and answered the phone. "Hi, Dad." 

"I called the hospital. They told me you'd left. I assume he's better." 

"Yeah, we got home a few minutes ago. And yes, much. How did you know we were at the hospital?" 

"Weiss called me. And I talked to Will. How are you doing?" he questioned, carefully. 

Sydney swallowed. "I'm...good. Are you on your way back?" 

"Should be landing within the hour. When I talked to Weiss, he seemed concerned about you. As did Will. Are you sure you're all right? Did something happen?" 

Sydney sunk into a living room chair. "Being at the hospital just made me uncomfortable. That's all. But I'm home now. I survived it, and I'm fine. I'm sorry if they worried you." 

There was a pause and Sydney worried that her father didn't exactly believe her. "Why didn't you call me to tell me he was ill?" he questioned. 

"I knew you were busy," Sydney answered, uncomfortably. "I thought I'd let you know when you got back. Or maybe I just knew you'd find out anyway. But don't think I haven't missed you." 

"Do you want me to come by when I land tonight?" 

Sydney glanced towards the baby's room. "Um, actually, it's been a long day. I think I'm just going to try and get to bed early." 

"You're certain?" 

"Why don't you just...come by tomorrow? For dinner. Eric's planning on cooking." 

There was a debating silence. "Tomorrow," he stated, almost as if disappointed. 

Sydney grimaced slightly. "Dad, I'm okay. Really. I just know you must be tired too. We'll talk tomorrow." 

"All right. Get some rest," he ordered. 

"I will," Sydney promised. "Good night." She set aside, and let out a small sigh. She headed back to the baby's room. "Is he asleep y--" she stopped her soft question, as soon as she looked in the room. 

Sark lay in the new bed, lying on his back with his eyes closed. The baby was completely out lying on his belly on Sark's chest. The child was so relaxed he wasn't even sucking his thumb as usual. 

A grin crept across Sydney's face. She moved into the room slowly, and turned out the table lamp. Then, she quietly moved out of the room leaving father and son undisturbed. 

_17 Hours Earlier_  
He could see her through the glass, sitting beside the crib with her eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. He stepped inside the room. He could hear a rubbery noise coming from the crib. He stepped closer to note the oxygen mask over the boy's face and an IV going into his arm. He reached a hand towards the crib. 

Sydney startled and looked up with wide eyes. She swallowed and looked at the sleeping child. She glanced around the darkened ward, concerned someone might see him. "What're you doing here?" 

Sark looked at her, indignantly. "My son is ill. Not that you felt it necessary to inform me." 

Sydney stared at him a moment. "I didn't think--" 

He tilted his head, looking slightly annoyed. "That'd I'd be interested? That I'd care?" 

Sydney folded her hands in her lap. "I didn't think you'd be able to get here." 

He centered his eyes back on the crib. "How is he?" 

Sydney shook her head. "He's been getting better since we got here. He's breathing better. I thought...I'd get to take him home today, but the doctors say he's not ready." She got up from the chair stiffly. "How did you know we were here?" 

"I have people keep an eye out for anything suspicious. You spending the night in a hospital is suspicious." 

Sydney frowned and crossed her arms. "Keeping an eye out?" 

"Sydney, they aren't spying on you. They don't watch you every minute of the day." 

"Just sometimes." She sighed. "I've had a feeling before, that there could be someone...watching. But I thought...I thought it was my imagination. Or someone...one of them...who was just waiting for an opportunity to get a hold of me again." She shuddered. 

"I'm sorry if they've frightened you," Sark responded, with a concerned eye. "How are you doing?" 

Sydney brushed a stray hair out of her face and responded with a guarded shrug. 

"Have you been sleeping here?" Sark inquired, glancing around for something more comfortable than the chair near the crib. 

She was awkwardly silent a moment before she managed to say, "I haven't really been sleeping at all." 

Sark fingered his son's small hand. "Eating?" he questioned, gently. He gave her a momentary glance. 

Sydney turned away from the crib. "I've been so focused on him, I haven't had time to think about anything else." Sydney sat back down in the chair and shuffled through the duffel beside her. "The nurses keep bringing me water." She said it as though she had no idea why. 

Sark turned towards her. "Your constant attention to him is commendable. But there's nothing wrong with a cafeteria break." His tone was light, but his eyes regarded her seriously. 

She frowned. "I haven't been hungry anyway. This place...this situation doesn't exactly make one have an appetite. Since when are you so concerned about _my_ eating habits anyway?" 

"Since you've given me reason to be." 

Sydney stood up again. "I thought you came here to worry about him. Not me." 

Sark's voice lowered to a stern whisper. "I _am_ concerned for him. Having him in the hospital draws attention." 

"I didn't put his name on the room," Sydney defended. 

"And if you collapse from hunger and exhaustion that causes unnecessary attention as well. Or are you _trying_ make yourself as memorable as possible to the hospital staff?" 

Sydney stiffened and turned back around to look at the crib. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm doing the best that I can." 

Sark took a seat in the chair. "I think I'd like some time alone with my son." He saw her eyes widen in surprise. "You're with him all day, every day. You can give me some time." 

Sydney frowned slightly. "How _much_ time?" 

"How much time does it take for you to have dinner and a good nap?" He looked at her, unable to help a small crooked smile. 

Sydney stared at him a moment. He could see her trying to come up with a protest. But finally, she sighed, then nodded. She walked back over to the crib and kissed the child's forehead. Then, she looked at him. "You will call me if you need or he..." 

Sark leaned forward. "He'll be fine," he assured her. 

Sydney nodded again, taking her purse. She only made it a few steps away before she turned back to them. She looked Sark in the eye. "You won't leave?" Her tone of voice resembled a plea. 

Sark's head tilted, his eyes fixing on hers. "I'll see you when you get back." 

Sydney seemed satisfied. She exited the ward. 

_20 Hours Earlier_  
Sydney was sitting in a chair beside a crib, holding the baby and rubbing his back. An IV ran into one of his arms. The child's thumb was in his mouth but his eyes were still open. 

Weiss stepped closer quietly, a duffel bag in his hand. "How's he doing?" 

Sydney didn't take her eyes off the child. "He's not comfortable here." She sighed, and laid him down in the crib. The boy's face immediately scrunched up. He pulled himself back into a sitting position and began to cry through the bars. He let out a congested cough between wails. 

"Perhaps this will help," Weiss held up the bag. "I have one baby blanket." He held up the blue blanket printed with children's ABC blocks. "I have one growling bear." He held up the stuffed animal. "Clothes, a few favorite snacks." He winked. "Everything you need to feel home away from home." 

"Thanks, Eric," she said unenthusiastically. Sydney lifted the baby again. He immediately burrowed himself into her arms, whimpering and coughing more quietly. 

"Tough being little and sick," Weiss sighed, running a hand over the child's head. Weiss set the bag aside. "You look exhausted, Syd." 

"He's so restless." She loosened her arms around the boy, and he sat up in her lap. 

"Let me take him for a minute," Weiss offered, reaching for the child. 

Sydney shook her head."No, it's okay." 

He stared down at her. "Come on, Syd. When's the last time you had a break? Gotten something to eat?" 

Sydney shrugged. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter, I'm fine." She reached for the bag and handed the child his bear, which he hugged tightly. 

Weiss sighed. "You do know you're not the only person in the universe capable of taking care of him properly, right?" 

"Not that I'm even doing that great a job." She hugged him closer and began rocking him again. "He looks at me like he's wondering why I brought him here. Why I'm not taking him home so he can really sleep." 

"This may help," came a quiet voice. A nurse approached with a capped syringe. 

Sydney glanced up at the nurse with wary eyes. "Why? What is it?" 

The nurse smiled. "Just something to help bring his fever down. But a side effect is drowsiness." She reached towards the IV. 

"Stop," Sydney ordered. "You don't have anything for his fever that won't make sleepy?" 

The nurse stepped back puzzled. "He needs to get some rest and doesn't seem to be doing that." Weiss noticed the nurse's side glance at him, as if asking for some help. 

"Syd, he needs to sleep and so do you," Weiss answered. 

"Not that way he doesn't," Sydney responded, standing up. 

"Miss, it's just a light dose--" 

"NO!" She moved herself in front of the IV, blocking the nurse from it. Her shout startled the boy. He dropped his bear and he began to cry. 

The nurse recapped her syringe and backed away. "All right." She frowned slightly at Sydney as she exited the ward. 

Sydney rubbed the boy's back soothingly until he quieted again. Weiss picked up the bear and stared at her. "You wanna tell me what that was about?" 

She silently swayed in place. 

Weiss set the bear in the bed. "Syd?" 

"Drugging him to sleep is what _they_ did," she responded, quietly. "If he was too loud, or too active...or they just couldn't be bothered. Maybe just when they wanted to upset me. And I never knew how long it was supposed to last or if...if it was going to wear off." 

Weiss blinked, apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Syd." 

He wasn't sure she heard him. She just hugged the child closer, a blank look in her eyes. "Drugging him to sleep is what _they_ did," she repeated. 

_9 Hours Earlier_  
"Are you sure this is the right floor, Fran?" Will glanced around. 

"This is the floor number that receptionist gave us," Francie replied. "Wait, up there." 

Directly ahead, they saw Sydney standing beside a baby bed, involved in what appeared to be a heated conversation with a nurse and a doctor. 

"You brought him here for treatment, let us treat him," the doctor was arguing. 

"There are oral antibiotics," Sydney responded. 

"He's having trouble swallowing. An IV really will cause him the least discomfort." 

Francie gave Will a troubled look. "Hey," she greeted softly, as they approached. 

Sydney turned, looking relieved to see them. "Hey," she answered, stiffly. 

"What's going on?" Will questioned, looking at the doctors. 

"They want to give him an antibiotic IV," Sydney said accusatorily. 

"It would help him?" Will asked. 

Sydney turned back towards the baby lying in the bed and didn't answer. 

"As we've been trying to explain, it's what we need to do to start treatment. We need to hit this hard and fast before it gets any worse," the doctor said, pointedly. 

"Give us a chance to talk to her?" Will asked the doctor, quietly. 

The doctor nodded and went over to check on another patient. 

"Syd?" Francie said, concerned. "Are you all right?" 

Sydney silently stroked the child's hair. "He's been frozen stiff since we got here. All this is going to do is scare him even more!" She stepped back from the bed. 

Francie blinked. "I'm going to talk to the doctor and find out if there are any alternatives." She walked across the room. 

Will looked down at the boy, laying in the bed with his eyes open wide. He was trying to suck his thumb but he kept coughing. Several small coughs, and then a harder one which made his eyes water and caused him to whimper in pain. 

Will swallowed. "Look at him, Syd. He's miserable." 

Sydney shot Will a glare. "And having complete strangers stick him with a needle is going to make him feel so much better?" 

Will watched her carefully. Despite the angry expression on her face, there was a fearful look in her eyes. He spoke softly. "They're doctors, Sydney. They just want to help." 

Sydney stiffened. "You didn't see the way he reacted, Will." Her jaw tightened and she forced out the words with her chin quivering. "To the throat swab. To the exam. To the x-ray. They've done nothing but terrorize him since we came here." 

"Hey...hey...calm down," Will soothed. He reached out to hold one of her hands but she stepped back. He let his hand drop. "It's been a long day for both of you. What do you think is really best for him here? A quick pin prick and some antibiotics or no treatment at all?" 

Sydney looked down and hugged herself. "He's wondering I brought him here. Why I let all this happen. What kind of mother lets her child get pneumonia..." 

He moved between her and crib. "Syd, look at me. You didn't _let_ anything happen. You do a great job. Kids just get sick." 

Sydney stared at him, expressionless. 

Francie came back over with the doctor. "The IV really does seem like the best idea, Syd. But I know it's up to you." 

Sydney looked up slowly. She hugged herself tighter. "Do it," she choked out. She turned and moved away from the crib. She started walking away as if to the leave the ward. Will followed. He stopped just around the corner to find her sitting against the wall. 

"Syd?" 

She pressed her knees against her chest. "Have you heard from my father?" 

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He's in Belgium, still following a lead on Sloane. It looks like he's not going to be back for a few days." 

There was a squeak and then a distinct cry from the next room. 

Sydney balled her hands into fists. "What about Eric?" she whispered. 

Will knelt down beside her as the wail got louder. "He said he'd try to drop by later." 

She didn't respond. 

"Syd?" Will placed a hand on her shoulder. 

She startled, grabbing his hand forcefully. "Don't!" 

Will winced. "Ow. Hey!" 

Sydney blinked and released his hand. "I'm sorry." She stood up and wiped two small tears. "I'm going to go check on him." 

Will followed her back to the bed cautiously. 

Francie was in a rocking chair beside the bed with the baby in her arms. 

Sydney halted a foot away, staring at the IV going into his arm. 

Francie smiled. "He did great, Sydney. He didn't try to pull it out. And he's calmed down." 

The boy lifted his head and immediately demanded Sydney's attention with a whimper, raising his arms. Sydney lifted him up and hugged him protectively. 

Francie raised her eyebrows in Will's direction. He was flexing his sore hand. He shook his head. 

"Can we get you anything?" Francie questioned, rising out of the rocking chair. 

Sydney shook her head and sunk back into the chair. "No." She paused. "Thank you." 

Will debated. "You sure? You aren't hungry or anything?" 

Sydney closed her eyes. "I'm just going to try and get him to sleep." 

"We'll check on you tomorrow," Francie said, seriously. 

Sydney didn't answer. 

Francie and Will started out of the ward. As soon as they rounded the corner, Francie grabbed Will's hand and looked it over. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah," Will responded, glancing at his hand. "She didn't mean to. Though I'm not sure we should be leaving her alone." They stepped onto the elevator. 

France sighed. "She doesn't want us there, Will. She's stressed enough trying to focus on him. Besides, Eric will check on her later." 

Will lowered his voice. "But it's obvious that being here reminds her of what happened to her. What if she has...a reaction? Like...she did before? These nurses and doctors aren't going to understand." 

Francie stared at him. They exited the elevator and headed through the lobby for an exit. "I think she would have told us if she wanted us to stay. She just wants to take care of her baby. We'll stop in early tomorrow totally prepared to stay..._if_ it seems like she wants us to." 

Will nodded as he held the door open for her. "So, shall we go home and get some dinner?" He placed an arm around her waist. 

Francie nodded, managing a smile. 

_Two Months Earlier_  
A hand clapped over Sydney's mouth tightly. Her eyes popped open immediately, and her hands flew to the arm holding onto her. She knew she shouldn't have taken a sleeping pill. It had just been three months and she had foolishly started to relax. She was pulled from the bed and flung halfway across the room. She brought herself to a stop, though floundered gracelessly just to remain upright. 

"Did you think I wouldn't find you, or that I wouldn't come looking?" 

She turned to stare at Sark defiantly. He was dressed in black from head to toe, leather gloves on his hands, and three-quarter length leather coat covering him. But his blue eyes were charged with fury. Sydney bristled. "Neither. I couldn't get to you. I had to go somewhere." 

Sark shook his head at her. "You didn't make our contact." 

Sydney ran her hand up and down her opposite arm. She felt chilled. "I tried, but somehow, they found me before I got there. They tried to kill me. I ran. This was where I ran to." 

Sark shook his head. "What makes you think this is safe? They could find you here. You're taking a risk you have no right to take. He's not staying here." 

Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "Glad you're so concerned for his well-being. But, you don't even know what he's been through." 

Sark pulled back the curtain on the window and surveyed the street. "I know what I need to know." 

Sydney shook her head, relaxing slightly. "And how are _you_ going to take care of him?" She sat back down on the bed. 

"I'm already coordinating forces to stop The Syndicate. It's only a matter of time before either I or my associates locate them again." 

Sydney nodded and crossed her arms. "And while you're out there stopping the Syndicate, who's going to be raising him?" 

Sark look unimpressed. "He can't stay here, Sydney." 

"Why not? You don't think I can protect him?" 

"You know it's not that," Sark stated. "I know you're more than capable." 

Sydney softened. "Then...what?" 

"What have you told your family? Your friends? The CIA?" 

Sydney shrugged. "Bits and pieces. Enough to answer at least half of their questions. Nothing about you being his father." She looked down. "I know you just want to help take care of him, maybe you're trying to make up for lost time, or maybe you just feel guilty because of what happened...but taking him to who knows where to be taken care of by people he doesn't even know--" Sydney heaved a heavy sigh. "That's not the way." She shuddered. 

Sark moved to stand just in front of her. "Are you all right?" 

"He's just...all I have to hang onto right now." She blinked back tears. "I know you love him too, I just--When I'm taking care of him, it's the only time I can forget everything that happened. It's crazy, I know it should be the other way around. But it's not." 

Sark hesitated a moment, then sat down on the bed beside her. "What do you propose?" 

"Go, find the Syndicate. But nothing changes until you stop them or there's some real danger in us staying here. If you want to visit him, I'll make it work." 

Sark stared at her in silence a moment. "All right." 

Sydney looked up at him, searching his eyes. "All right?" 

"I agree to your proposal." 

Sydney's eyes watered again, but she managed a small smile. "Okay." 

"I'd like to see him before I go." 

Sydney nodded. She grabbed Sark by the hand and pulled him along, leading the way into the hallway and then the first door on the right. The room was decorated in blue and blue teddy bears. 

A blue child's crib was in the middle of the room. They slowed and took soft steps up to it so not to disturb his sleep. The boy curled up on his stomach, underneath a soft blue and white blanket. He sucked on a red pacifier. They watched him in silence a moment. 

"He's grown," Sark commented. 

Sydney smiled slightly. "And his hair's gotten whiter, if that's actually possible." She moved the blanket to cover the child's toes better. 

"How's he doing?" 

Sydney frowned momentarily, then returned to a neutral expression. "He has nightmares pretty often. I mean, it's normal considering...but he's so scared when he wakes up. It takes me awhile to get him calmed down." She sighed. 

Sark glanced around the baby room, at the teddy bear wallpaper border running across the middle of the walls. "Talking much?" 

"He understands a lot. But he has to be feeling comfortable to say anything. He really only talks around me and my dad." Sydney looked thoughtful. "He really gets along great with my dad." 

Sark nodded and turned to leave the room. Sydney lingered a moment longer then followed, closing the baby room door all but a crack as the two of them stood in the hallway. 

"I'll try to visit monthly. I'll bring updates on my progress. I'll send the information, the day and time we are to meet on reminders of medical appointment cards. Then, call this number, and leave the place we are to meet." Sark handed her a piece of paper. "If you need anything...between visits, you can use the same number. Whatever message you leave, it will get to me." 

Sydney took the paper and nodded. "Okay." 

Sark stared into her face searchingly. "You're sure, this is what you want?" 

Sydney looked him in the eye. "I'm sure." 

Sark nodded, then turned to leave. 

Sydney let him get two steps away from her before she called to him. "Wait." 

Sark halted. 

She walked back into the bedroom, ruffled through a drawer in her dresser and returned with a small packet. "I thought you might want these. They're pictures of him that I took when we went to the park last week." 

Sark took the packet from her. "Thank you." He paused. "See you in a month." 

Sydney smiled slightly. 

_One Week Earlier_  
"Now or never," Will told Francie. They stood outside the apartment they had helped Sydney move into the previous week. 

"I'm not sure about this, Will. She could have told us we could come over dinner, just to polite. I get the feeling that maybe she'd prefer to be alone." Francie sighed. 

"She hasn't been very social since...since she got back," Will admitted. "But I think she'd tell us if she truly didn't want any company." 

Francie nodded. "If she starts to seem uncomfortable, we leave," she told him. "I don't want to upset her." 

Will nodded and knocked on the door. 

Instantly, it opened, as if Sydney had been standing there waiting for them to knock. She grinned. "I was wondering how long you two were going to stand out there." She winked at them and opened the door wider so they could step inside. 

She almost held the normal Sydney glow. Her hair was styled into curly ringlets. She wore a long sleeved shirt and a long black skirt decorated in silver leaves and red flowers.. 

Will was surprised to see Sydney dressed up. It seemed like the first time he had seen her out of casual clothes. He guessed she'd been staying away from form-fitting clothing, trying to hide how thin she was. He still noted how well the outfit covered her arms, back and legs. 

Francie embraced her friend. "You look beautiful. How do you feel?" 

"Hungry," Sydney responded, playfully, wriggling out of the hug. "Dinner's almost ready. I'm just fixing the salad." She closed the door and locked three locks securely, then reset the alarm. 

Francie glanced around the apartment. "Where's--" 

"Rawr!" The sixteen-month-old peeked out, gripping onto a stuffed black bear, that continued to roar. He giggled. 

"I'm still going to get you for giving him that," Sydney told Will. "Come here, Little Bear!" She scooped him up and he giggled louder. He squeezed the bear again and it roared menacingly. "Between you and Eric and my father, he has enough noise making toys to last a lifetime." 

"The batteries will die eventually," Francie responded. They all headed into the dining room. 

"How about, I slice the tomatoes for this salad and we call it even?" Will asked. 

Sydney settled the boy into a high chair. Francie took a seat at the table with him and began conversing with Mr. Bear. Sydney followed Will into the kitchen. 

Will lifted the lid on a large pot on the stove. 

"Hey, no peeking." She swatted a pot holder in his direction. "The tomatoes are on the counter. Knives in the drawer underneath." 

Will immediately pulled over the cutting board, and grabbed three tomatoes. "So, how is your dad?" 

Sydney didn't look at him and just grabbed a ladle. "He calls every day." 

Will pulled open a drawer, in search of a knife. "I thought he was going to lose it when you told him you were moving to your own place this soon." 

"I thought he was going to barricade the door," Sydney laughed. "He insisted on being the one to find the locksmith and picking who installed the security systems. He wanted me to agree to a security detail." Sydney smiled thoughtfully as she began putting soup into bowls. "He's just been really sweet." 

Will pulled out a large butcher knife and began slicing tomatoes. "About his little girl," Will joked. Francie looked up through the gap in between the cupboards and the counter where she could see into the kitchen. "What are you doing? Cutting tomatoes like that should be a crime." 

"Hey, I've never claimed to be a chef." He gave her a pointed look. "It's my own personal style." 

"It's like mutilation!" Francie protested, getting up from the table and heading into the kitchen. "Seriously, someone has to stop you. Right, Syd?" 

Sydney glanced over. 

"It's not brain surgery, it's a tomato," Will answered. 

"Then, don't treat it like brain surgery," Francie responded. "See, this is why I don't let you cook at home. Give me that knife." 

Will turned on her, holding the knife out of reach and waving it above his head. 

Sydney inhaled sharply. Francie looked over just in time to see a bowl of soup clatter to the floor, spilling its steaming contents. Sydney let out a small squeak of pain. 

"Syd, you all right?" Will questioned. He put down the knife and approached her. 

"Oh, Syd your hand!" Francie exclaimed. 

Sydney stared blankly at the two of them, then at her scalded hand. 

Will turned and wet a towel quickly in cold water. "Here, let me see." He grabbed her arm to steady her hand and wrap the towel around it. 

But instantly, she came to life again and pulled away. "Don't!" 

Will froze. 

"Sydney, you're burned," Francie said, worriedly. 

Sydney took the towel from Will and wrapped her own hand, as she walked out of the kitchen. Francie and Will exchanged worried glances. Will nodded to her. He stayed in the kitchen and Francie went sat down beside Sydney at the table. "Are you okay?" 

Sydney's eyes were watering. She was breathing so hard she was almost hyperventilating. 

"Please, just let me see your hand," Francie said, softly. 

"It's not...my hand," Sydney whispered. 

"Then, what is it?" Francie glanced up at Will who had dared to move into the doorway. 

"The...knife..." Sydney stared at the baby who had even stopped playing to watch her. 

Francie rested a hand on Sydney's back carefully. "Will's done with the tomatoes. He put it away." Will added the tomatoes to the salad and brought out the bowl. 

Sydney moved her unburned hand towards the high chair, and just held the little boy's hand. 

"Sydney, you can tell us," Will said. 

"No, I can't," she answered, seriously. 

Francie moved her hand away, looking hurt. 

Sydney blinked and looked at Francie. She sighed and softened. "I wish I could, but right now, I can't." 

"All right," Will said. "Are you hungry? Or...do you want us to leave?" 

"No, please don't leave," Sydney pleaded. "I invited you for dinner. Let's have dinner." 

"One condition," Will responded. 

Sydney looked at him. 

"I get to serve the soup," he answered, with a grin. 

Sydney nodded. She stayed right beside the baby the rest of the evening, though. 

"Do you think she's okay?" Will asked Francie, when the night was over. 

Francie sighed. "No," she admitted. "But it doesn't make any sense. She loves that baby, but..." 

"But, it's like he upsets her and comforts her all at the same time," Will concluded. 

Francie nodded in agreement. "I don't know if you can even answer, but the questions the CIA asked her...what she said about the years she's been gone." 

"It's fragmented, Francie. I wasn't even supposed to get a look at her answers, but she wouldn't tell me and I had to know. There's details about some things, but it's like she managed to leave out everything that might be important. I don't know...if she would just talk about it maybe she wouldn't be so haunted by it." 

"You tried?" Francie asked. 

"Yeah, but she started to cry and I couldn't...I couldn't ask anymore. I think we're just going to have to give her some time." 

Francie didn't seem to like that answer. She sighed and fastened her seat-belt. 

Will looked at her. "What?" 

Francie frowned seriously. "I just have this feeling that time is the one thing we don't have." 

_____  
_Reviews welcome and appreciated._

Review Replies:  
Jennzabell: You have a lot of great questions. Syd's friends and family are also quite concerned about how traumatized she seems to be and are treating her with great care, as you can see in this part. I can promise you this fic has nothing to do with amnesia. Its timeline is AU, not Post-Telling, thus the most recent episode hasn't affected anything about my fic. Thanks for your review. :) 

jenesis4: The story will continue backwards from where it began for a period of about two years and I'm hoping to put some flashbacks in later parts to cover a couple more important events that took place prior to that time. As for going forwards, your perspective on the end will be changed by knowing where the story begins. Thanks for the review! 

landi104: Thanks for the review. I've gotten a couple of requests to do that. I've considered it and I may even do it, but not for awhile after it's done because I wrote the story backwards for a reason and plotted out the effect that reason has. Going forwards, I'm afraid the story it will lose something. 

sarsy: I love your review! So detailed. Thanks so much for reading. Again, my response to the forwards question is the end will give you more info on the beginning. 

Mockingbird4: Thanks for your review and for reading. :) 

Thanks again everyone! 


	5. In the aftermath of secrets

_A/N: I'm posting just the first half of Part 5 because it's so long. I'll post the second half later in the week._

**Part 5: In the aftermath of secrets...**

_Three Weeks Earlier_  
He spotted her on the other end of the aisle. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She was holding up two different child's curtain patterns to a blond boy in her shopping cart. He debated heading out of the aisle before she noticed him. But he didn't know when he would next have an opportunity to see her ever again. He took a bracing deep breath and started down the aisle. 

He could hear her playful voice as he neared. She was mock scolding the child. "You've gotta make a decision. I thought your room would be the easiest one to decorate in my new apartment," she told him. 

The boy stared at her and then giggled. 

"Maybe we should give up and go for ice cream," she said, seriously. "What do you think?" 

The baby nodded equally as seriously. Then, he kicked his legs and shifted in the cart. 

"Yeah, I'm sick of shopping too." Sydney turned her cart quickly into the aisle. She set aside the patterns and looked up just as he neared her. "Dixon!" Her voice was a mix of shock and surprise. Her brown eyes quickly searched his face uncertainly. 

He stared right back at her. "Hello, Sydney," he said, calmly. 

"Hi," she returned, softly. She blinked, obviously unsure what else to say. 

Dixon sighed. He hadn't seen her in over three years. It only made sense that he made her uncomfortable. "Your father told me you were back." 

"You've spoken to him?" Sydney asked. Jack obviously hadn't mentioned it to her. 

He nodded, trying to make his expression more pleasant. "We attended the same CIA briefing a couple months ago. He didn't bring you up. I asked." Jack hadn't been willing to give him any details beyond telling him of Sydney's return. 

"Oh." Sydney nodded. "I asked him about you too, when I first got back. He told me you'd come to the CIA and gotten a desk job." She managed a small smile. "I hadn't expected you to ever be comfortable in a desk job." 

"It makes Diane and the kids more comfortable," Dixon replied. "They're my top priority." 

Sydney nodded. "Of course." She stared at her cart, unable to look him in the eye for very long. The boy shifted in the cart again, annoyed to be sitting still. 

"Your father also told me about--" Dixon directed a nod in the child's direction. 

Sydney gave him a nervous smile. 

"I'm happy for you, Sydney." Dixon finally managed a smile of his own. "I know it may seem hard to believe after the way we left things. But I never wished for you to be unhappy. I just needed some time." The awkwardness of this exchange was starting to get to him. Maybe he should have just escaped into another aisle. He maneuvered his cart to leave. 

Sydney hesitated a moment, then inquired, "Can we...go some place and talk?" 

Dixon turned back to her with a questioning look. 

Sydney sighed. "I just...I do hate the way we left things. If you don't want to, I'll understand." 

He hated it too. "I'll meet you in the parking lot?" he offered. 

Sydney agreed. They parted, made their ways separately through check-out and loading up their cars. He pulled his car up beside hers as she fastened the child into a car seat. 

"Where to?" he questioned. 

Sydney closed the back of the SUV. "There's an ice cream place just around the corner." 

"I know it," he replied. 

They were both there in fifteen minutes. There was an uncomfortable silence, save the baby babbling excitedly, as they got ice cream. They sat down at one of the outdoor tables. The baby did his best with his own cup of ice cream and a spoon. 

Sydney finally took a deep breath and looked at him. "I'm buying an apartment. I've been staying with my father since I got back, but I'm not sure how comfortable he is having a toddler running around his house. And I just think it's time I got into my own place again." 

He nodded. "You've already picked it out?" 

"Yeah, I move in in two weeks." She ruffled the child's hair. "So, how are the kids?" 

"They're doing well," Dixon replied. 

Sydney nodded. "And Diane--" 

He could see her ready to dance around the safe topics and couldn't stand it. "Sydney, I know we haven't seen each other since...since the takedown of SD-6, but we don't have to limit this conversation to small talk. I wouldn't have agreed to come here, if I didn't want to talk to you." 

Sydney looked down. "I thought you never wanted to talk to me ever again." She glanced at his face briefly. "And I understood that. I told you the truth about SD-6. I...shattered your world." 

Dixon sighed. "At first, I was so angry with you. I trusted you with everything and I found out you'd been lying to me for over a year." 

Sydney's eyes widened. "I was protecting you. From having to make the choice of whether to go into hiding or becoming a double agent. From putting your family at risk. From putting yourself at risk. And once you knew what SD-6 was...then you were going to feel exactly as I felt when I first found out. And I couldn't wish that on any one. Especially you." 

Dixon sighed. "After the death of your handler, after you disappeared and I sorted things out with Diane, after I accepted a job with the CIA, that's when I finally realized exactly what you were trying to do for me. What you went through practically alone.... I joined the search to find you." He lowered his eyes. "But, it'd been almost a year, and the trail was cold." 

"Leaving wasn't something I planned. I didn't want to hurt anyone." Her chin quivered. "But I know, that I did." Sydney stared down at the baby. "And then, I couldn't just come back. I don't know how many times I must have thought about it. The first year I even came back to L.A. to visit Vaughn's grave. But I didn't have the truth yet. And I couldn't...I couldn't risk coming back and losing anyone else." 

"I almost lost Diane when I told her the truth. She took the kids and went to her sister's. She never signed on to be the wife of a government agent. But we got through it, and she supported me when I joined the CIA. But before then, I was so close to losing everything, I couldn't see straight. I know I said things that hurt you, Sydney, and for that, I am truly sorry." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. 

Sydney's eyes glistened. "I missed you," she whispered. She glanced down at her untouched, melting, vanilla ice cream. 

"I missed you too," he responded. He felt his own eyes threatening to water. "If you ever need anything, even just someone to talk to, I'm here." 

She smiled at him. "Thank you." 

_One Week Earlier_  
"Come on in, Weiss." Jack stepped back from the door and gestured for the younger agent to follow him into the living room. 

Weiss held up a folder. "So, this is everything the CIA has been able to turn up about the Syndicate. I'm afraid it really isn't very much. It'd really help if Sydney could just give us a few more details about them--" 

Jack shot him a look. 

"Even though I know that's not going to happen." Weiss sighed and looked around the living room. His eyes settled on the baby swing. "How is she?" 

Jack took the folder from Weiss and glanced at the swing. "Some days she appears to be doing better. Some days, she eats. Some nights, she sleeps." 

Weiss nodded. "The doctor said her behavior could be kind of erratic for awhile, Jack. She's gotta adjust to having a normal life again." He picked up a stuffed animal off the couch and added, "A normal life _with_ a baby." 

"You make it sound like there's no such thing." 

Weiss glanced up to the doorway. Sydney stood there, the baby toddled into the room ahead of her. She was holding a purse and the boy had his jacket on. She was managing a small grin. Weiss grinned at her and then at the baby. 

Jack stared at her seriously. "Where are you going?" 

Sydney's smile lessened. "I've been back over a month, and I've yet to be able to make a trip to the cemetery. Today, I want to go there." 

"Are you sure that's wise?" Jack questioned. "That you're ready?" 

Sydney nodded. "Yes, I'm sure." 

Jack glanced from her to the baby. "I'll come with you," he decided. 

Sydney frowned. "Dad." She shook her head. "You really don't have to. I've lived here most of my life. I've been to that cemetery more than a dozen times. It may be the first time in awhile, but I don't need you to hold my hand." 

"You being completely alone right now, in the open, is out of the question," Jack responded. 

"I won't be alone," Sydney answered. She picked up the baby. She could see him about to protest again. "Eric will be with me." 

Weiss perked up and looked at her. She gave him a small, pleading look. "Of course," he agreed. 

She looked to her father for his approval. 

Jack looked at the two of them and gave a small, stoic nod. 

Weiss headed for the door. 

"We won't be more than a couple of hours," Sydney promised her father. She immediately followed Weiss out the door before Jack had the chance to change his mind. 

As they climbed into Weiss's car, Sydney turned to him and gave him a gracious smile. "Thank you, Eric. You don't really have to take me if you don't want to. Ever since I got back, my father feels the need to come with me everywhere. I think he even worries about leaving me in the house alone. I don't know if he thinks someone will come and get me, or if I'll just disappear." 

"I'm happy to do it, Syd," Weiss answered. "Whatever you need." 

Sydney smiled. 

It was a fairly quiet drive, except for the sounds of the baby babbling. 

"You want me to come, or maybe stay here and watch the baby?" he questioned, as he pulled into a parking space at the cemetery. 

Sydney glanced towards the backseat. "He's coming with me," she said, in tone that left no room for debate. She undid her seatbelt and got out of the car. 

Weiss did the same. 

"I know this wasn't exactly what you had in mind for this afternoon. I can find another way back home," Sydney told him. She went about getting the boy from his car seat. 

Weiss stared at her. "Syd, I wanna stay." He shifted uncomfortably as Sydney gathered the boy up in her arms and stepped away from the car. "It's been a long time since I've been here." He shut the car doors. 

Sydney put the child down and held his hand as they started across the grass. Weiss followed. 

"How long?" Sydney asked softly. 

Weiss glanced down at his shoes and then looked at her. "Day of the funeral." 

Sydney hesitated. "If it makes you uncomfortable--" She let the child's hand go momentarily and he ambled off in the direction of the nearest headstone. 

"No, it's not that." He sighed and looked her in the eye. "For me, there was just never a reason. Nothing here reminds me of him. I go by his old apartment sometimes. Or I go through the stuff of his that I have." 

Sydney stared at him a moment. She didn't say anything, just suddenly stared past him and briskly walked over and lifted the boy off a headstone that he had climbed on as if it were a pony. She knelt down in front of the child and scolded him mildly. Then, took his hand and walked briskly in the direction of Vaughn's plot. 

Weiss brought up the rear behind them. He watched as Sydney knelt in front of the grave, tending it neatly. She knelt down and spoke to the boy beside her the entire time. He could hear speaking softly telling the child about Vaughn. She described him, both physically and his personality. Weiss couldn't help but smile over that. "And I come when I want a quiet place to think about him," she explained. It was then that she stopped speaking. 

The baby reached out and touched her face, watching her intently. Sydney just hugged the child close. 

Weiss frowned momentarily and stepped closer. "Syd?" She glanced at him and he saw her face was wet with tears. She looked away again. "I didn't finish earlier. Sometimes, it easier for me to remember him when I'm with you. I have a lot of good memories of you guys together, or just times he would talk about you. And when I saw the two of you, kissing in the ruins of the SD-6...I knew it was something you'd both been wanting to do for a long time. You probably don't remember me being there, cause you completely ignored me." 

Sydney let out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry." 

"It's all right," he responded. "I know you were celebrating the one thing you'd both wanted since the day you walked into the CIA. I was there then too. You probably don't remember that either, but I gave you a pen." 

"That I remember." Sydney sighed and looked at the gravestone again. "SD-6 being destroyed--It was one of the last things he ever got to see." She rose, holding the baby on her hip. "I couldn't even sleep that night. I was afraid when I woke up that it wouldn't be real. That the takedown never happened. But I never thought that the next day, he'd just be gone. That I'd never see him again." 

Weiss stepped closer. "No one knew, Syd. It's not your fault." 

New tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She stepped away from him and put the baby down. "You don't know what you're talking about." 

The boy scampered uncertainly into Weiss's arms and he lifted him up. "I know you didn't pull the trigger. I know you didn't want him dead. It's not your fault, Sydney." 

She didn't acknowledge him. "He died alone," she whispered, almost to herself. He watched her start to tremble. 

"Syd?" He reached out to grab her arm. His fingers barely brushed her forearm and she shoved his hand away. 

She stumbled backwards. "No!" 

He stepped towards her. "Sydney? It's okay. You're okay." 

Sydney shook her head at him and sunk into a spot on the grass. He didn't move any closer to her. He knelt down a few feet away. The child in his arms began to squirm. "Mama!" She flinched. 

He released the child slowly and the boy ran to her and grabbed onto her. She didn't respond at first but after a moment she brought one hand up and hugged him to her. She blinked several times before looking at him. A small sad smile forming on her face. "Mama," he said again, burrowing himself into her arms. She hugged him and stood up. 

Weiss watched in wonder at the child's ability to comfort her. He approached the two of them carefully. "Come on, I think it's time to go." 

Sydney hesitated then nodded. They walked side by side back to the car and climbed inside. Weiss stuck his key in the ignition, but didn't start the car. He glanced at her. She looked at him and then out the window. 

"I thought it would make me feel better, to go there." She stared at the dashboard then slowly lifted her eyes to look at him. "To do the things I think I would be doing if I'd just gotten back from a three year vacation." 

Weiss nodded. "We'll try again next weekend." 

Sydney seemed mildly comforted by the thought. She gave him a quick smile and looked out the window again. 

"You know, no one expects you to be fine. If you want to be, not-fine for awhile, we'll get that." 

"I need to get on with my life. If not for me, for him." She nodded towards the child in the backseat. "I know I had a rough first few weeks back, but I don't want to be treated differently because of it." Her voice took on a dry tone. "Which is exactly what my father seems to think he has to do. And why I'm going to move." 

Weiss had been about to start the car, but he sat back in his seat again. "Move?" 

Sydney grinned at him, a look that was a cross between sheepish and mysterious. "I made up an excuse to run an errand the other day and went and took a look at an apartment. I liked it. I've decided to buy it. I haven't...mentioned it to my father yet." 

"Oh he's going to _love_ that. How do you plan to tell him? Call him after you move in and invite him over?" 

She flashed a playful smile. "Exactly." 

Weiss finally started the car and looked at the clock. "So, we still have at least another hour before your father expects us back. Wanna grab some lunch?" 

Sydney nodded. "Sure." 

_Two Weeks Earlier_   
Jack knew he should be keeping his eyes on the road, but out of the corner of his eye he kept watching Sydney. Her hands were in her lap. Her fingers curled. She kept her eyes down, and she hunched slightly. Her eyes closed halfway as if the sunlight sedated her. 

In his rearview mirror, Jack could see the child sleeping in a car seat in the middle rear of the car. He'd told Sydney it would be better to have someone watch the boy rather bring him along. She'd given him a look of near horror. Like he'd asked to sever an arm or a leg. There hadn't even been a conversation about it. She'd simply gone and gotten the child ready. 

Jack parked the car in his driveway. He'd nearly called and cancelled the meeting that morning entirely. A month just wasn't enough time. Sydney moved slowly and carefully from the car. She opened up the back and unsnapped the baby seat. 

"Let me help," Jack offered, opening the opposite car door. 

Sydney responded by pulling the baby seat to her quickly. She shot her father a distrustful look. "I've got him," she said, softly. She balanced the handle of the carrier on her arm and headed for the front door of Jack's house. 

Jack had noted Sydney shifting uncomfortably as she was directed where to sit, what microphone to speak into. She glanced at the men she didn't recognize and he took the liberty of giving introductions. He wished it didn't have to be so formal, but she needed to detail her actions for the past two and half years. He was forced to leave the room after that, watching from a monitor in his office. She'd been extremely stiff. She rarely made direct eye contact. He'd had kept the baby in his office with him, since he was asleep. Sydney hadn't seemed to like that either but she knew the child couldn't remain for the session. 

Jack unlocked the door and held it open. Sydney carried the baby inside. 

Sydney carried the baby off to her bedroom without another word to him. He sunk into a seat on the couch. He'd been hoping that she'd truly reveal something to the CIA. Instead, she'd been almost as vague as ever. They were eager to talk with her again soon. 

Sydney emerged from the bedroom. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. "He's asleep," she said, even though Jack hadn't even asked. She gave him a serious look. "And I'm not going back there again." 

Jack frowned. "Sydney, you agreed--" 

"I agreed to give the CIA information about a possible new threat!" Sydney interjected. "That has nothing to do with the majority of the time I was gone. I gave them a statement, and I went to answer questions about that statement. Nothing else." 

Jack stood up. "You refused to answer any of their questions. The Syndicate is a powerful group, but you wouldn't reveal their purposes. You said they ran tests on you, you wouldn't say what kind. You said they were killers, but you didn't explain. You said you escaped from one their compounds, but not how. You revealed the city location, but not the address of the compound. And you wouldn't even go into why you left, where you've been, how you discovered this new threat, what happened to you, or why you came back now." 

Sydney narrowed her eyes at her father. "I went to them as a courtesy. But I don't work for the CIA anymore. I don't owe them any answers." 

"I don't suppose you feel that you owe me any answers either," Jack stated, calmly. 

Sydney blinked, and looked down. She sunk into the chair opposite the couch. "I just feel like, the less you know, the safer you are." She clasped her hands together tightly. 

Jack moved to stand just beside the chair. "It doesn't keep me from worrying about you." 

Sydney looked up at him. "Dad, please. I know you have lots of questions. I've tried to answer what I can. I wish I was able to tell you more. But there are things, things I don't remember. And things, I just can't think about right now. " 

"Sydney--" 

"If it were just me, I'd tell you everything. But it's not just me, Dad." 

"If you feel that you are in that much danger, then you need to seriously consider going into a protection program." 

Sydney stiffened. "I already spent several months of my life hidden from the world. I can't go through that again." 

He walked away, because despite the pain looked on her face, he still had his questions. If she was in danger, if there was any kind of risk, then he needed to know everything possible about it. Even if it meant asking questions, she found it difficult to answer. He went into the kitchen and got a drink of water. 

When he returned to the living room, he found Sydney was still in the chair. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing in a steady rhythm. The morning had apparently exhausted her completely. He didn't disturb her. He took a seat on the couch, just watching her sleep. He'd forgotten what her face completely peaceful looked like. 

_One Week Earlier  
There were footsteps in the hallway... the door unlatched... the room filled with light... The guards looked around the room. Their eyes finally settled on her sitting on the cot. _

"Come on," one ordered. 

She hesitated, but turned to lay the baby on the cot. His arms clung around her neck tightly and his face contorted when she pulled him away. 

"No, bring him too," he ordered. 

She looked up at the guard with wide eyes. "There is no reason--" 

"We don't have time for this," the guard grumbled, coming towards them. "Put him down." 

She let out a relieved sigh and lowered the baby onto the cot. He curled up face down. The guard turned and snapped restraints onto her. He pushed her towards the doorway. Then, immediately turned and lifted the baby. 

"No!" Sydney protested, ready to spring into action despite her restraints and her ankle. 

The guard turned the boy around, holding him around the waist with one hand and his other hand on the child's neck. "You want to see him killed right here in front of you?!" 

"Sydney! Sydney!" 

Jack brushed his hand against her damp, flushed face. She recoiled, and he pulled his hand away. 

"Sydney, wake up." 

She inhaled sharply and her eyes opened wide. She looked around the room, directly at him once, and then away. She flattened herself against the headboard, and it rattled as she quaked against it. 

Jack frowned. She didn't seem certain about where she was. Then again, the room was only illuminated slightly by the crescent moon visible out the window. Jack turned on the lamp beside her bed. 

The tiny click brought her gaze back to him. She was hyperventilating, ragged breaths shuddered in and out of her. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her she was safe, but he didn't dare touch her. 

She pulled her knees to her chest. Her brown eyes bored into him, pleading silently. For what, he wasn't certain. 

"You're all right," he said, gently. Even though, she obviously wasn't. He was losing count of the number of times he'd found her this way since her return. 

She rested her head on her knees, tensing in an attempt to stop shaking. She seemed successful for almost a minute, before she began to quake again, harder. Her eyes closed as if she was going to give up fighting it until it passed. 

Jack watched helplessly as she fought the nightmare that still managed to have such control over her, even though she was awake. Sometimes he fought the urge to try and imagine what she'd been through. What she was reliving. But as soon as an image came to his mind of what it could be, an image of her alone, in pain. He couldn't bear it longer than a second. 

She sat up straight again, letting out a pained cry. She shakily climbed out of the bed, leaning against it for support as she scrambled across the room to the crib at the foot of the bed. He'd checked the baby even before he'd woke her. The child was asleep. She gulped down two deep breaths, and unsteadily pulled the blanket around the child. 

Then, she backed away from the crib. "If I was making enough noise to bring you," she whispered, hoarsely, "I'm surprised...I didn't...wake him." Her breathes interrupted her words. She turned away from the crib and looked at him. She stood frozen in a place a moment. She blinked obviously fighting the urge to cry. "You barely get any sleep at all with me here." She sunk back down onto her bed uncomfortably. She almost missed it. 

"What were you dreaming?" he asked, softly. 

She brushed her damp hair out of her face and shuddered slightly. "I don't remember." Her eyes stayed focused on her shaky hands. As if she thought if she stared at them hard enough, they would stop shaking. 

He stood, watching her. "Do you remember if it's the same thing you've been dreaming the past two weeks?" 

Sydney looked up at him, guiltily. She turned her head to the side and looked down. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. 

"There's nothing you can tell me about these dreams?" he questioned. His voice was losing its calm. 

She swallowed, as her eyes darted about the room, searching for anything to focus on but him. "When I was...there...I used to dream about being back. I'd dream about you." She shook her head. "Now, that I'm back, all I can dream about is being there. If I can sleep at all." 

He watched her carefully. "Sydney, I think you should consider seeing a doctor." 

Sydney's head shot up at him and she stared him directly in the eye. "No." 

"Not just about these nightmares, which seem to be getting worse--" 

"They're not worse!" she interjected. 

"They _are_ worse, Sydney," he countered. "You won't tell me anything about them, perhaps because you don't want to hurt me. But if you could talk to someone else about what you experienced, what you keep reliving." 

Sydney stood up, still a little unsteady. "I can't do that." 

"You need to," he responded. 

Her hands formed into small fists and she folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. Her eyes focused on something beyond the bedroom. "I try to think about how to tell you. About how to explain. About what." Her voice lost volume with each word. "I try..." She inhaled sharply. Her fists tightened. Had her nails been a little longer they would have dug into her palms. She took several backwards steps. Then, her eyes closed. 

"Sydney?" 

Her eyes opened slowly, but they were blank. 

He stepped closer to her as she began to sway ever so slightly. He feared she was about to collapse. "Sydney, are you all right?" 

She didn't move. She didn't look at him. But tears rolled out of her eyes. 

He took one of her hands slowly. So stiff and cold. He blinked regretting starting this conversation. "Sydney!" he called, thinking it was the only way to reach her. She was so faraway. "You're going to be all right." 

She blinked her eyes and stumbled backwards a step. "I can't," she whimpered. "I'm sorry." 

He watched her a moment, then pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay." He guided her carefully and they sat down on her bed. 

She hugged him back carefully and began to cry into his shoulder. "I love you, Dad," she whispered. 

"I love you, too," he returned, softly. He didn't know how long he held her, but when he let her go, she laid back down. He got up and turned the light off for her. He left the room, and closed the door all but a crack. But he waited just outside her room until he heard the rhythmic breathing of sleep, before he finally headed back to his own bed. 

___  
_Reviews welcome and very appreciated!_

Review Replies:  
Thanks Landi104 and Liv. :) 

Sarsy: Thanks for the review. I'm sorry I'm so late updating, I was trying to do it once a week. And you're right, the point when Syd first arrives home appears in the 2nd half of Part 5. 

Grace: Thanks for the review. The story continues backwards from beginning to end for a period of about 2 years. I have considered the story going forwards at some point near the end, but the more I think about it, the more I think that'd be a whole new fic. 

Thanks again for all the reviews. :) 


	6. In the aftermath of secrets cont

_A/N: Anyone still out there?_

_Two Weeks Earlier_  
Will straightened his tie, took a deep breath, resituated the flowers in his arms and knocked on the door. He had time to clear his throat before the door opened and he gazed into the stoic face of Jack Bristow. Jack looked at him expectantly. 

"I told you I'd try to drop by," Will explained. "Is this a bad time?" 

Jack glanced back inside the house. 

"I won't stay long," Will promised. 

"She's in the kitchen," Jack finally replied. He stepped aside. 

Will nodded and entered the house. "How's she doing?" 

Jack closed the door solidly. "You'll have to see for yourself." 

Will sighed. He walked around the corner to the kitchen and paused before entering. Sydney was stirring something at the stove. However her attention was focused on the small boy in a high chair turned to face her. He was eating some cheese cut to into bite-sized pieces. 

"Hey, Syd," Will said softly, hoping he didn't startle her. 

Sydney turned to look at him. Immediately, a warm smile swept across her face. She remained at the stove stirring the pot. "Is Francie here too?" Sydney asked. 

Will resisted the urge to move closer and just hug her. "No, I-I just came by on my way home from work. I thought it might be easier for just me to come at first. She's been so worried about you. We both have." 

She turned down the heat on the stove and lowered her eyes. "I'm okay." 

Will finally stepped closer. "You sure? Because if there's anything you need--it's just so good to see you. Oh, and these are for you." He held out the flowers in his hand. 

Sydney took them carefully. "Thank you." Then, she moved forward and hugged him gently. "Dad told me about you and Francie," Sydney whispered to Will. "Congratulations." She paused, taking a deep breath to keep from crying audibly. "H-how is she?" 

"She's good," Will assured her. "Better now. She wants to see you." 

He could have held onto her forever, but Sydney pulled away. 

Will looked over at the little boy eating. "Your father told me...." He moved forward and knelt beside the high chair. 

The boy outstretched his small hand to offer Will a piece of his cheese. 

Sydney watched the two of them thoughtfully. 

Will took the piece of cheese, although he didn't eat it. "He's beautiful, Sydney." He smiled at her but she didn't smile back. Will stood up straight again. 

Sydney was studying him seriously. "What do you want, Will? What did you think would be easier if Francie wasn't here?" 

Will sighed. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever happened..." He couldn't help but momentarily focus on her bruised wrists. "Whatever you...went through. You can talk to me about it, if you need." 

"I don't need to talk about it," Sydney assured him. "I just need to move on." She moved and cleaned the cheese off the high chair tray. 

"Come on, Syd. I heard about what happened with you. You _do_ need to talk to someone." 

Sydney frowned at him. "You don't understand--" 

"Don't understand what? That the last time you disappeared for three years?" 

"That was completely different." She cleaned the boy's hands. 

Will moved closer. "You were trying to keep things inside then, just like you are now." 

"I was trying to find out what happened to someone I cared about." She put the high tray chair aside and lifted the child into her arms. 

"Sydney, you were running away!" Will countered, much louder than he had intended. 

She flinched and hugged the baby close to her. She turned her back to him. 

Will inwardly kicked himself for even getting into this and tried to soften his tone. "I just--I don't want that to happen again." 

Sydney rocked slightly, stroking the child's hair, as if _he_ were the one in need of comforting. 

"Whatever you're afraid of, Syd, the CIA will protect you, if you let them." 

Sydney glared at him. "Like they protected Vaughn?!" she snapped, in a loud whisper. "Like they protected you?" She turned and headed into the living room. 

Will blinked and followed her. "So there _is_ someone out there that you need protection from?" 

Sydney turned on him. "I need you to not ask me these questions. That is what _I_ need." Her eyes burned into him, pleadingly. 

Will sighed. He noted one of her hands was trembling. "I'm sorry." 

She sunk into a seat on the couch, rocking to try and keep him from noticing. 

"I think you should go now, Will. You're upsetting him." She nodded towards the baby. 

Will looked at the child, who was wide-eyed but seemed fine otherwise. He didn't push it. "All right." He headed for the front door. 

Jack was in the hallway. He blocked the path to the door and gave Will a hard stare. 

Will sighed apologetically. "I didn't mean to--" 

"I know you were trying to be a friend to her." Jack's small brown eyes darted back and forth searchingly. "The things you said were things she needed to hear. But you can't push her about this...not right now." 

Will nodded, then eyed Jack suspiciously. "She's told you _something_, hasn't she?" 

Jack stepped aside, leaving Will a free path to the door. 

_Two Days Earlier_  
The screams wracked him from sleep. He sat up and looked at the clock. Just past 3am. He got up and pulled his robe off the back of the door. He headed out of his bedroom and down the hall. Sydney was in the living room rocking chair. She had the boy wrapped up in a blanket, laying against her chest. The living room was littered with packaging. The previous week, after establishing that Sydney was definitely going to stay with him, they'd gone out and bought everything necessary. 

She glanced up at him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'll have him calmed down in just a minute." She turned attention back to shushing the child. 

Jack turned his eyes towards the boy, crying so hard he couldn't catch his breath. His face was completely red, his eyes scrunched closed. He curled into Sydney, gripping onto her shirt, trembling. 

"Another nightmare?" 

Sydney stroked the boy's hair. She kept her eyes on the child and nodded. "Apparently." 

Jack moved to the couch and watched her. She hugged the child so protectively close. He'd never seen this maternal side of his daughter prior to her disappearance. It was comforting to see it. She rocked and whispered to the baby until he was able to stop crying so hard. Then, she shifted him in her lap, wrapping the blanket. He sucked his thumb as he fell back to sleep. 

Sydney then looked at her father. "He'll be okay now. I'm sorry he woke you." 

"He didn't wake you?" Jack questioned. 

"I-I wasn't asleep anyway," Sydney admitted. 

He'd known that. He had heard her at night, more often than not, pacing the house. Or watching television. Sometimes he'd see her just staring out her bedroom window and watching the baby. 

"What happened to him?" Jack asked carefully. 

Sydney looked at her father. "He just got scared..." 

"I don't mean tonight, Sydney." 

Sydney stared at him. She rose carefully, so not to wake the child. Without a word she took him back down the hallway to the bedroom. Jack remained on the couch and sighed. She re-emerged only a few minutes later. 

She returned to the rocking chair and hugged herself. "He saw some pretty frightening things. That's all." 

Jack didn't hesitate before asking, "Frightening things that happened to you?" 

Sydney stared at him. "What is it you want to know, Dad?" 

"I want to know when you're going to stop pretending that I didn't have you both examined by doctors the moment you arrived. You aren't..." He cut off his thought and looked her in the eye. He sighed. 

"I'm not what?" 

"You aren't yourself. I suspect you have good reason not to be. And you seem very worried about that child." 

"Why _wouldn't_ I be worried about him?" Sydney questioned. 

Jack stood up, slowly. "You look haunted when you look at him. I suspect that has something to do with whoever his father is, and how he came into existence." 

Sydney debated a moment, then softened. "His father didn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking, Dad. I haven't brought him up, because we aren't on the best of terms right now." 

"But he knows you're here?" 

Sydney shrugged. "I'm not sure what he knows right now. We haven't spoken in a while." 

"And he doesn't have anything to do with this Syndicate?" 

Sydney shook her head. "I already told you how I got involved with them." She rose and moved to the window. "I know you think you want to know more about the last three years. That you think it'll help you somehow, or help me." She shivered and looked him in the eye. "It won't. It'll just hurt. Whatever you're thinking must have happened to me, you're probably right. Don't make me describe it to you, so you can picture it. You don't _want_ to picture it." She choked on her last words. 

He stood, and started to move towards her. "Sydney. You don't have to hide things to protect me. I can handle whatever you choose to share." He moved to embrace her but she stepped away from the window. 

She took a deep breath. "I should try and get some sleep." She didn't wait for him to respond before she went down the hallway to her room. 

He didn't follow. He no longer felt he could sleep. He got a glass of water and replayed the conversation they'd just had over and over again in his mind. It was nearly an hour before he headed back towards his bedroom. He stopped at hers first. She was curled up in fetal position in the bed. The baby slept the same way, except with his thumb in his mouth. 

He moved away from her doorway quietly and went back to his room. He never did fall back to sleep. 

_Four Days Earlier_  
Jack sat up straighter at the first sign of movement from the hospital bed. 

His daughter's hand flexed, then her arm bended. 

"Sydney?" 

Sydney's eyes popped opened and searched wildly about the room, thoroughly assessing her bright, sterile surroundings. She felt the IV that ran into her left hand. She sat up quickly at first, but slowed as a wave of dizziness and nausea overtook her. 

"Sydney. Take it easy, you're safe." 

Sydney glanced at him cautiously. Her hand went to her lower back where she found clean gauze over a wound. 

"Dad?" She swallowed and took a deep breath. "What's going on?" Her voice was slightly hoarse. 

"You're in the hospital, sweetheart. The wound in your back had become infected. You've been here the past three days, fighting off a high fever, " he stated. He looked at her with concerned eyes. 

Sydney nodded, uncertainly. "But, how did I get here?" 

He rose and stepped closer to the bed. "I brought you here. You came to my house. Do you remember? You collapsed." He watched her carefully. 

She shivered and rubbed her arms. "Somewhat," she said. She looked down at her lap, then suddenly she turned to him and grabbed one of his arms. "Dad!" She searched his face with fearful, wide eyes. "Where is--" 

"The baby's fine," he told her, not wanting her to worry another second. "Weiss is watching him back at my house. He was checked by a doctor as well. They said he was a little dehydrated but otherwise healthy." Her hand remained tense on his arm. "He's all right, Sydney," he repeated once more. 

She looked faraway. Her hand relaxed and sunk back into her lap. "He must be so scared." 

The baby had indeed seemed quite frightened, especially when he'd first woken up. But he feared what her reaction might be were he to tell her that. Jack swallowed. "You must be hungry." 

Sydney looked up at him. This time, her eyes were full of tears. "No, please. I want to see him." 

"You will," he said simply. _Eventually._ He paused, knowing there was no easy way to ask his questions. "Sydney, what happened to you? Where have you been? Where did this... baby come from?" 

A haunted look passed over her face. "I need to get out of here," she responded. She pushed the sheet off of her. 

"You need to rest. Your fever may be down but your other injuries still need time to heal." 

Sydney tugged at the IV in her arm. "I can rest some place else. I can't stay here." 

"Sydney, stop," Jack ordered. His hand reached for one attempting to pull out her IV. She paused at his touch. "You were admitted malnourished, dehydrated, with an infected gunshot wound in your back and various other bruises and scars. Your x-rays showed you've had some recent broken bones. You cannot just ignore these injuries." 

Sydney's faced contorted in pain and she laid back down in the bed. She shifted in the bed and her hands balled into two small fists. "Just get me out of here." Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly as if she couldn't catch her breath. Her voice became barely a whisper. "We can talk about...everything, when we get back to your house." She obviously hoped promising answers would get her his cooperation faster. 

Before he could respond, a nurse peeked into the room. She smiled brightly. "Miss Bristow, it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" The nurse moved close to the bed to check the monitors. She reached for Sydney's arm. 

Sydney pulled her arms to her chest, staring at the woman in complete silence. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. 

The nurse gave Jack a questioning frown. "Has she been awake for very long? Has she spoken to you?" 

He cleared his throat carefully. "Give us a minute." 

The nurse nodded and exited the room. But her exit didn't seem to have much of an effect. 

Sydney's eyes were blank and glassy. He wasn't sure she was aware of anything except when the rattling sound of a gurney rolling by in the hallway startled her. Tears leaked out of her eyes. "Daddy...please," she began to repeat. A whimper. A plea he couldn't ignore. 

It took three hours, two prescriptions and one final exam before Sydney was released. It gave Jack time to bring her some of her own clothes to change into for the ride home. She didn't ask why he still had some of her clothes after all this time. 

Jack didn't question her as he drove her back to his house. She didn't offer any information. He offered his arm for support for her to climb out of the car and walk into the house, but she broke away as soon as he pushed open the door. 

A wail could be heard coming from the kitchen. She moved briskly through the living room. Weiss was pacing with the blond boy trying to give him a bottle. "Sydney!" the agent exclaimed. "It's good to see you...up and..." The child immediately reached for her. 

Sydney took the baby into her arms. "Thanks, I've got him." She turned back and took him over to the couch. She laid him down on his back in her lap, and rubbed his belly. The child quieted, then she handed him the bottle to feed himself. 

Weiss watched Sydney. "He hasn't been like this the whole time," the agent tried to assure her. He grabbed a towel to wipe a drool spot from his shirt. 

Sydney glanced at him. "Then, how has he been?" 

"He's really a sweet little guy when he's not...upset." Weiss grinned. Sydney kept her eyes on the baby, and didn't respond. 

Weiss approached Jack. "How is she?" he asked quietly. 

Jack was silent a moment. "I've yet to be able to speak with her much." He nodded towards the baby. "Thank you for watching him," the senior agent said, dismissingly. 

"No problem. Let me know if I can help again," Weiss responded. He headed out the door. 

Jack sat down in a chair. There was silence in the house again, except for the sound of the baby drinking his bottle. "How old is he?" Jack questioned, deciding it best to start with a safe question. 

"Thirteen months," Sydney replied. 

"And he's yours?" 

Sydney flashed a playful grin. "No, Dad. I kidnapped him." 

"His father?" 

Sydney's grin disappeared. "I don't even know where he is." 

"But who is he?" 

Sydney kept her eyes on the child. "It's not important right now." 

Jack stared at her very intently. "Sydney--" 

"I was captured," she said, suddenly, looking up at him. "They called themselves the Syndicate. I was...doing an investigation. Vaughn was dead, and no one knew why and I just couldn't accept that." She looked down guiltily. "I needed to know what had happened." 

"The CIA was looking into it. You didn't have to go off on your own." 

"I had to do something!" Sydney exclaimed. "He was murdered! In his own apartment. Just like..." She couldn't even finish. 

"Who captured you?" her father questioned. 

"I barely even know much about them. But I know, they killed Vaughn. And they don't want to have anything to do with Rambaldi or anyone interested in him." The haunted look returned to her eyes. "It didn't stop them from holding us for five months." 

"Five months!" 

Sydney stroked the boy's hair and sighed. "Some days weren't so bad." 

"And you escaped from them?" 

She nodded. "Yes." 

He paused, hoping she'd add a detail or two. She didn't even look up. He sighed. "Do you think this Syndicate will come after you?" 

"They tried once, before I got back into the country." She shuddered as she admitted it. "But now, I doubt they know where to look for me. And even if they did, coming all to the way to L.A. I doubt they'd want to risk exposing themselves here, and to the CIA." She shrugged. "Not just for me." 

Jack sighed. "You'll need to talk to the CIA as soon as possible. Tell them everything you know about this new organization. They held you for five months. You were obviously of some interest to them." 

Sydney shook her head. "I got in their way. They had to do something with me to keep that from happening again. I was an opportunity. A lab rat. A diversion. But I wasn't important to them. There's no reason for them to want me back, unless they think I'm going to be a problem for them again." 

Jack was silent at first, but finally he cleared his throat to speak again. "We missed you. We searched, even with no way to know if you were alive or dead." 

"I'm sorry," Sydney whispered. 

Jack watched her with a searching look. "If those five months were the only time you were held captive, then why has it been so much longer since I last heard from you?" 

Sydney set the finished bottle aside and hugged the baby against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Dad." 

"You're back to stay now," he stated, but there was a hopeful look in his eye. 

Sydney nodded. "I'm not going anywhere, if I have any say in it." She looked at him. "I'm going to need a place for us to stay." 

"You can stay here as long as you need," Jack offered. "Will and Francie stayed in your apartment up until last year. Then, they bought a house." 

Sydney nodded, not quite following. 'They bought a house...together?" 

"They were married." 

Sydney nodded, her eyes nearly tearing. "I can't wait to see them." She forced a sad smile, letting the baby slide off her lap and stand just in front of her. 

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear from you." Jack started to stand. He had a bedroom to prepare. 

Sydney nodded. "Dad?" 

"What?" 

Sydney nodded to the boy. "He's looking at you." 

Jack looked down. The bright blue-eyed child was indeed watching him. Jack's expression softened and he looked at his daughter again. "Welcome home, Sydney." 

_Three Days Earlier_  
It was nearly midnight. Jack Bristow was doing some late reading in his living room. The windows were cracked open to allow for a cooling cross breeze. So he heard the footsteps, crunching the gravel of his driveway. He wasn't expecting anyone, and wondered why he hadn't heard a car. There was a weak knock at the door. 

Jack snapped his book shut and rose to answer it. Through the glass in the door, he was able to see who his late night visitor was. He unlocked the door and flung it open eagerly. "Sydney!" 

His daughter was rather haggard in appearance. Her hair was stringy, her face was dirty. Deep circles were beneath her eyes and her forehead was bruised. She held a large gray bundle affectionately against her right shoulder. A beat-up tan bag hung on her opposite shoulder. Her clothes were muddy gray sweats that seemed large on her. She looked up at him with teary eyes. "Dad? I didn't know if--" 

"Come in," he ordered. "Are you all right?" 

Sydney took careful steps across the doorjamb and into the front hallway. She swallowed hard, looking lost. 

"Where have you been? What happened to you?" Jack inquired, urgently. He closed the door. 

Sydney breathed heavily, exhausted. She turned down the gray blanket, to reveal a small blond head resting on her shoulder. "Could you please take him?" 

Jack's eyes widened. He looked from the child to her, with a questioning look. 

Sydney sighed. "I'll answer your questions, Dad. But please, just take him." He leaned forward and she eased the boy into her father's arms. The child whimpered but when Jack held him close, he quieted. 

Sydney stared at her father, holding the child securely. "Dad, I don't know exactly where...to begin." 

Jack looked up to see Sydney backing away from him. She was perspiring and looked disoriented. "Sydney?" 

She took another deep breath trying to compose herself. "Dad?" The word came out of her sounding so young and frightened. 

Then, her eyes rolled back and she sunk into a heap on the floor. 

"Sydney!" She didn't answer. 

Jack moved towards her to check her pulse but found himself hindered by the child in his arms. He laid down the young boy on a nearby chair. Then, he hurried back over to his daughter, checking her vitals. Her pulse was normal, but her breathing was ragged. He felt her cheeks with the back of his hand. She was feverish. He lifted her carefully, moving her to the couch. 

The father couldn't help but notice the bruises on his daughter's arms. Ligature markings circled her wrists. Who had done this to her? He ran a hand carefully through her hair. She shivered, and he covered her with an afghan off the back of the couch. She looked so pale and thin. Where had she been the last several years? What had she been doing? Where had the child come from? 

He realized he'd better check the baby. The boy was sleeping peacefully. He was calming to watch. His hair was a true platinum blond, completely white. He couldn't have been much more than a year old. He slept on his stomach, curled into a little ball, sucking his thumb. 

Jack turned away, barely hesitating before ruffling through the bag she'd brought in search of clues. First, he found diapers, small amount of money, papers for an alias, a ticket stub from a flight from London. He found dirty gauze and tape in a bag at the bottom. He put the bag down and turned back to Sydney curiously. 

He uncovered her and began to examine her carefully. There were more minor scrapes and bruises. But when his hand felt her lower back, it came back red and sticky. He grabbed the phone. 

_Two Hours Earlier_  
He sighed into the phone, but finally pressed the last few buttons and let it ring. It was answered almost immediately. "It's me." 

"Progress report," the voice on the opposite end, immediately ordered. 

"The Syndicate attempt to recapture her failed." 

There was a pause, and he was unsure whether to think that meant displeasure or not. "She has few options of where to go. She'll head home. To L.A. To her friends, to the CIA. It'll call too much attention for the Syndicate to go after her there. There cannot be another failed attempt." 

"Then, they'll just want to kill her." He realized. "Keep her from giving away too much information about them." 

"I've already spoken to them. They've agreed to let me handle the situation." 

"Then, I'll reacquire her trail. I'll finish this." 

"Unnecessary. We will find her, yes. You are aware of our attempt to prepare her for Project Mnemosyne during her time with us?" 

"Yes." 

"Mironov assures me he succeeded. We can allow her to remain in L.A.. We'll be able to keep track of her, of what she knows, of what she reveals. And yet keep her, and therefore her father and the CIA, completely unaware of our activities." 

"So, I find her. And begin?" 

"Yes. Give her a little time to settle in. Then, we'll check in on her at regular intervals." 

"The way I understand the project, she'll find our checking in quite...unsettling." 

"She'll survive." 

"What's the trigger?" 

"An amethyst necklace Romanov kept visible to her during the sessions. I have it in my possession now." 

"Even if this does work, it will still be only a matter of time before the Syndicate finds it necessary to take her back into custody." 

"Many opportunities can present themselves in a little time." 

"Understood. I'll begin immediately." 

___  
_Please, please review!_

Review Replies:  
Landi101: Thanks. I can't help but wonder what specifically you like about this story (or even what you don't like) and where you think it's going :) 


	7. In the freedom of escape

_A/N: Again I've split this part in half, but this first half is STILL 13 pages long. :)_

**_Part 6: In the freedom of escape…._**

_15 hours earlier_

Her back was throbbing. The dizzy feeling hadn't gone away and she was starting to feel nauseous. She took the water each time the flight attendants offered it to her. Nothing helped. The boy in her arms was clinging to her tightly. He hadn't liked the plane taking off and was wide-eyed now that they were in the air. She kept her window closed, hoping it would help. 

He yawned tiredly, but refused to sleep. She rubbed his back reassuringly and hugged him to her shoulder. She sang softly into his ear. _"Lullaby, and good night, your mother's delight... Shining angels beside my darling abide. Soft and warm is your bed, close your eyes and rest your head...Soft and warm is your bed, close your eyes and rest your head.... "_

_5 hours earlier_

The taxi came to a halt at the curb. 

"That'll be forty-seven pounds even," the driver told her. 

Sydney wordlessly paid the driver. She gathered her bag on her shoulder and lifted the baby. Sore muscles rebelled and she attempted to set the child down on the side walk beside her. He grabbed tightly onto her neck as she leaned over. She tugged on his arms and looked at his face. His eyes widened and his chin quivered. He gripped her leg and cast wary glances at the people passing them on the sidewalk. 

Sydney sighed, bent down and lifted him up again. He burrowed into her. "I know," she whispered in his ear. 

She looked at the crowd inside the train station and wanted nothing more than to walk away. A small space, a lot of people, and more were arriving every second. A mixture of mumbles and shouts and children crying filtered out the door. Her ears stung. There were train whistles and squeaky baggage carts and voices squawking out of loud speakers. People speaking different dialects and languages passed her by. Her head ached, deciphering bits of the dialogue and jumbling the rest. Car exhaust and damp air tickled her nose. Sydney took a bracing deep breath, opened the door and plunged inside. 

A new stream of people impatiently closed in behind her. She gasped quietly as the arm of a man brushed against her in his hurried attempt to pass her. Perfume, leather and wood polish attacked her nose. A high pitched voice spoke agitatedly to a man at the counter, who sighed and simply shook his head. Once clear of the door, Sydney looked to a clock. She was almost an hour early. She turned, thinking it might actually be more appealing to wait on the curb, rather than surrounded by so many people. The baby's eyes were wide, watching everyone. He drew a small amount of attention. Passing children pointed out the baby to their parents. Some parents scolded them for dawdling while others regarded Sydney with a forced smile and urged their children not to bother her. 

Sydney drew away from the lines of the crowd and found a vacant bench on which to wait. She sat the child in her lap facing her. There, she was less easy to notice, though she watched the people around her with interest. A man in a business suit carrying a briefcase. A woman stepping back to take a picture of her formally dressed children before they headed towards their platform. An older teenaged boy tapped obliviously on a laptop as he waited. The stream of people at ticket counters shifted and swayed. Every other person was checking their watch or resituating their bags. A couple kissed conspicuously in an aisle before finally breaking apart. The woman made it two steps away before rushing back to kiss the man several more times. 

It was so unbelievably normal. Sydney sunk in her seat slightly. There was such a mixture between the impatient and serious, and the carefree and adventurous. Their minds were preoccupied with concerns Sydney hadn't thought about in what seemed like a lifetime. She used to be comforted by watching these scenes unfold. But now, watching them left her unsettled. She was never going to be one of them. She scanned the room seeking to find someone else who didn't fit in. 

A young woman stared at the arrival information and glanced at her watch. She repeated the action several times as if the action alone could change either the time or the arrivals. A man wearing a hat stood near the door. He sunk behind a newspaper when her eyes passed over him. But not soon enough. She'd seen his eyes. If there was anything she'd had time to memorize in five months of captivity, it was the eyes of every guard, every doctor, every interrogator. When she had nearly been fading away from pain and exhaustion, their eyes burned into her mind. Their hard unrelenting stares consumed her dreams at night. Angry eyes. Pitying eyes. Amused. Annoyed. Penetrating. Condescending. Merciless. Cold. Empty. 

She hugged the baby to her and rose slowly. She moved away from her vacant bench and towards the crowd. Her heart pounded rapidly. How could they have found her? How had they known where to look? Who knew she was here besides Sark and Alexei? She strode into the crowd, slipping through them. Hairsprays, deodorants, damp coats, cologne. Her stomach lurched. People moved unpredictably and she dodged around them. A chorus of cell phones. Feet shuffling. Sneezing. Coughing. Without looking back, she knew he was behind her. She turned a corner. An exit was only a few feet away, but she opened the nearest door and slipped inside. 

It was a cleaning supplies closet. She moved an empty box in the back and lowered the child into the box. He looked at her uncertainly, tears threatening in his eyes. "I will be right back," she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek gently. She made him sit down and moved another box on top of him, covering him completely. She moved back to the door and peeked out. She waited as a group passed the doorway and slipped out into their midst. 

Sydney continued down the hallway, glancing around carefully. She discreetly took note of everyone around her, looking for the man in the hat. She made her way back to the main entrance, and finally even headed out the door. She stepped onto the curb and instantly footsteps shuffled behind. In the time it took her to turn, a hand gripped onto her elbow. She tensed, but in the same moment, a gun pressed into her back. 

"No sudden movements, Sydney," an amused voice whispered in her ear. "Keep staring straight ahead." 

She stiffened and swallowed. 

"Where's the boy?" 

"You don't need him." 

"I decide that. Now, where is he? 

She stayed quiet, frowning. 

"Fine, we'll deal with that later." An arm enlaced her and guided her away from the curb. "Where did you think you were going?" he asked, through a smile. 

"No where," Sydney responded, through a meaningless smile of her own. "I was actually just looking for you." 

That got her a light laugh and painful poke in the ribs. His fingers dug into the crook of her elbow and urged her towards an alley. "Good then. It's a good thing we found each other. Isn't it?" He twisted her arm until she let out a light gasp. 

She inhaled sharply. "Yes," she breathed. 

"I hope you enjoyed the last couple of days of freedom. Last you'll be getting quite some time." He continued to hold her arm twisted painfully. She formed her hands into fists, forcing herself not to react. 

"I get the feeling you have no idea how much we want you, especially after your, let's call it a demonstration. Foolish, but nevertheless impressive." They moved into the shadows of the alley. 

She didn't raise her eyes towards his face. "What's going to happen to me?" she asked, uncertainly. 

"You'll come back home to us, of course." He stopped a moment and lifted her chin to look her in the eye. Her skin tingled at his touch. "If you cooperate now, your punishment for this escapade will be minor." 

His eyes were a light hazel brown. His expression was a mixture of amused and condescending. "If there's anything you've learned from us, it's that we will not tolerate any kind of misbehavior. So you'll be good for me now. Won't you?" he ended in a threatening tone, his fingers gripping her chin as if to snap her neck. 

Tears threatened her eyes. "Yes," she choked out. 

His hand slowly dropped back down to her arm. "You remember what we taught you, don't you?" He pushed back her sleeve. 

She nodded, uncomfortably. Her stomach was churning. Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly she could hardly think. "I remember...." she whispered.. 

Watching her carefully, he moved the gun away from her side. "Then, tell me," he ordered, gruffly. 

She blinked, hesitating only momentarily. She forced out words, hoarsely. "Followers of Rambaldi seek destruction. Redemption--" She stopped as he pulled a syringe from his pocket. "You don't need that...." she began. 

"Sedative. This will be quick, and when you wake up, we'll be home." He turned her arm to position it properly. "Go on." 

She continued emotionlessly. "Redemption in blood. Death to the Order." 

He poised the needle in place above a vein. "Very good." 

In one motion, she brought up her opposite hand, twisted the syringe from his hand and took it into her own. She kneed him in the stomach, satisfied with his pained gasp. She pulled his gun from his holster and pressed it beneath his chin. 

"How did you know I'd be here?" she demanded. 

Amusement crossed his face. "There was this rather helpful man in Kiev," he choked out, then laughed. "Gave us all the answers we needed when properly motivated." 

Sydney blinked. How had they found Alexei? How had they known where to look for her? And had they motivated Alexei by torture or money? Had he given her up? She pressed the gun further into his neck. "How many others did you bring here with you?" 

He coughed and tried to move, but she knocked his head into the wall. 

"How many others?!" she necessitated. 

"Like it really took more than me to catch you? You'll never get away. Wherever you run to--" 

She kicked him once more in the stomach. Then, she dove the needle into his neck, emptying the contents of the syringe. His eyes widened madly and he laughed then slumped against the wall. She grabbed the hat off his head and his coat. She tucked her hair thoroughly underneath the hat, shed her own coat and put on his. She abandoned his cellphone and gun beside him. She slipped out of the alley and in a side entrance to the train station. 

She looked at every passing person warily. None seemed interested in her. No more eyes struck her as familiar. Even if he had been the only one, they'd send more people when he didn't return. It was still possible he hadn't been alone. They'd "motivated" Alexei. Somehow he had betrayed her location. She couldn't stay here. Not even for her meeting with Sark. Perhaps she never should have come in the first place. It could all be a trap. 

She slipped inside the closet. She pulled her bag back over her shoulder and shoved aside the boxes. The boy was sucking his thumb with teary eyes. He reached for her immediately. She pulled him into her arms and hugged him. She emerged from the closet slowly then took a brisk stride through the crowd and out of the train station. She continued down the sidewalk for two blocks before she dared stopping to hail a taxi. 

It pulled up the curb and opened the door. She set down her bag on the seat and started to climb inside. In an instant, fire tore through her back. She squeaked in pain and pulled herself into the taxi. "GO!" 

The taxi driver's foot stomped on the accelerator and her door slammed shut. Sydney hugged the baby in her lap with one arm. She glanced behind her looking for a person but not spotting anyone as the taxi went into heavy traffic. 

"So, am I taking you any place in particular?" the driver inquired. 

She breathed heavily, finally securing the child beside her and shedding the coat. She held it forcefully against her back. It was warm, wet and red in seconds. Her hands trembled. 

"Ma'am, are you alright?" the driver questioned. 

"Hyde Park," she choked out. "Just drop me at Hyde Park." She pressed the coat against her back firmly, keeping an eye out behind them for suspicious vehicles. She tried to be relieved that she didn't see any. She looked down at the boy beside her and took his hand. He looked up at her with curious blue eyes. She forced a smile for him. He stuck his thumb in his mouth. 

She was dizzy by the time taxi halted and the driver announced, "Hyde Park." 

She handed him the fair and gathered the child and the bag on the same arm. She braced herself and scooted out of the taxi. As it pulled it away, she set the boy on the ground beside her and held his hand. They walked a ways into the trees, before she finally stopped. She sank against the tree, released the child's hand and dug into her pocket. She flipped open her cellphone, took a deep breath and dialed quickly. It rang longer than it should have, but finally there was an answer. "Elliot....This is Sydney...Bristow. I know it's been a long time, but I need...I need your help." 

It was dark and raining as Elliot urged Sydney into his apartment. She laid the boy to rest on a bed then turned to Elliot. He was an older man, in his late fifties. He looked at her with nearly fatherly eyes. 

"Over five months, Miss Bristow. I'd been worried." As she winced, he sighed. "Apparently, with good reason." He gestured for her to lay down on the table and he examined her wound. "I'm not sure there's much I can do." 

Sydney sighed. "I just need some more gauze." 

"Your father will wonder why I didn't take better care of you." He secured fresh gauze to her back. "It's stopped bleeding for now, but you need proper medical care." 

Sydney shook her head and sat up. "They'll be looking for that. I can't risk it. Did you get everything I asked?" 

Elliot nodded. "New identity. Flight to L.A for you and the boy." 

Sydney managed a small smile. "I'll get the money to you as soon as possible." 

Elliot nodded, regarding her seriously. "I know you will." 

Sydney shifted. "I'm going to change. Then we'll leave." She glanced at the sleeping child then slipped into the bathroom with a pair of sweats. They were slightly too big for her but were better than the blood stained clothes she'd had on before. 

She re-emerged and picked up her bag. She winced slightly as she started to pick up the child. 

"Let me help," Elliot offered. 

"We're alright," Sydney responded. 

Elliot picked up a blanket from the bed. "To keep him dry, at least." 

"Thank you." Sydney wrapped the boy in the blanket and headed out into the night. 

_13 Hours Earlier_

Sydney startled awake, surprised she'd even actually fallen asleep. The baby beside her rolled over and blinked his eyes open. She sat up and he watched her closely. He smiled at her. She forced a small smile back for him. She got them both dressed and washed up. Then, she picked him up and carried him out of the room and down the stairs into the kitchen. 

Alexei was sitting at the table which was spread with breakfast foods all covered up. He was reading a book, but he looked up at her and smiled. "Good morning." His bright green eyes lit up slightly, and he gave the baby a small wave. He'd been up for awhile, waiting for her, she realized. 

Sydney sighed and sat down at the table. "Good morning," she returned cautiously. She began fixing a plate shredding the pieces for the boy in her lap. The boy reached towards the plate, eating the shredded food eagerly. 

Alexei shifted uncomfortably in the silence. "I know I know very little about you and that that's for the best." 

Sydney glanced at him expectantly. 

"What I do know is that you've recently been through something terrible. I don't know what you've had to do to stay alive, but, but you're okay now. You can relax with me." He gave her another smile. "Mr. Sark wanted you to be comfortable here." 

She began fixing her own plate of breakfast, taking very small portions of the bread and eggs. She began to eat very slowly. She doubted she'd be feeling comfortable anywhere, anytime soon. She tried to soften her expression. "It's just hard...to be comfortable here right now. We're only a couple hours away from...." she trailed off. She looked him in the eye. "I am grateful, for all your help." She began eating again, despite that her stomach was already starting to hurt. 

Alexei rose. "I packed a bag. It has food, bottles for the boy, diapers, money, cellphone in case of emergencies. Some bandages." He gave her a careful look. "Though, perhaps you should see a doctor before you leave. I know someone, someone we can trust..." 

She shook her head. "I don't think we should risk anyone else knowing I was in contact with you. How long until my flight?" 

"We should be at the airport in another hour," Alexei responded. He hung the bag upon a hook by the door. "If there's anything else you think you might need." 

Sydney silently continued to eat for a moment. "I think you've covered everything." She turned her attention back to the child in her lap. "Slow down," she whispered lightly in his ear. 

Alexei moved back to the table. He smiled at her approvingly. "He's a good boy." 

Sydney looked from the child to Alexei and nodded. "Yes, he is." 

"I hope my wife and I have a boy like him." 

"You're married?"' Sydney confirmed. 

Alexei nodded, his smile widening thoughtfully. "Two and a half years." 

A small smile briefly appeared on Sydney's face. "What's her name?" 

He beamed at her interest. "Ana." 

Sydney suddenly frowned, looking almost guilty. "She must miss you while you're...here." 

"Not as much as I miss her. She knows the work I do is important. She's glad I do it." 

Sydney took a sip from a glass of water in silence. 

Alexei tried to catch her eyes. "I'm glad I do it too." 

Sydney hugged the child in her lap and rested her chin on his head. The boy stopped eating and curled up in her arms. "We're done," she said, softly. 

She saw disappointment that they hadn't eaten more cross Alexei's face, but he managed not to say anything. He rose and began clearing dishes. She stood, moved the baby to one hip and began taking her dishes to the sink. 

He looked at her. "You don't have to…" He trailed off when she looked back at him. He shifted, as if uncomfortable that he'd even tried to stop her. 

"I know," she finally said. It just felt good to do something knowing she didn't have to. She let him alone with the dishes since she figured that it would truly make him uncomfortable if she tried to wash them. 

When he finished, Alexei drove them to the airport. 

The baby's arms were so tightly gripping her neck, he wondered she could breath. Alexei tried to keep his eyes on the road, but Sydney watched everything. Her eyes leapt from window to mirror and mirror to window. Nothing out the windows seemed to cause her serious expression to change. Was she expecting they were being followed? 

"I assure you Miss Bristow, there is no one following us," he finally said. "I've been watching since we left, and taking precautions." 

She stiffened, sitting quietly for a moment, just staring out the window. 

He sighed, trying to think of a way to lighten the mood. "You both must be looking forward to seeing Mr. Sark, after all this time." 

Sydney glanced at him and then began pointing out the window. "See the birds," she told the baby. She pointed out more sights the rest of the ride, saving Alexei from trying to come up with any more small talk. 

He finally parked at the airport. Sydney climbed out, keeping the bag he'd given her on her shoulder and the baby in her arms. 

Alexei got out as well and stood beside the car. "It was good to meet you. I hope you have a safe trip." He leaned into the car and held a winter coat out for her. "Just in case, the weather isn't good in London." 

Sydney took it and gave him a smile. "Thank you, again, for everything." 

He beamed. 

Sydney turned towards the building, hesitantly. 

"Sydney," he said. She turned her attention back to expectantly. He looked her in the eye. "You're going to be alright." 

Her eyes momentarily glassy, Sydney blinked. She swallowed and nodded. "Good bye, Alexei." She turned her back to him, the baby against her shoulder. 

"Good bye," he returned. He waved. 

He was surprised to get a small wave in return, from the boy. The child was grinning at him. He smiled. 

She started across the parking lot. Each step she took seeming more confidant than the last. 

_One Day Earlier_

Sydney stared at the small room, not sure whether to move beyond a few steps in. The child in her arms was nearly asleep, only still sucking from the bottle when she nudged him slightly. She took stiff steps towards the bed and laid him down on it. He grasped at her neck. She pulled the blanket to cover him, pausing to run the cloth between her fingers. It was so soft. Nothing like the rough blankets she'd gotten so used to. She tucked it around and turned on her side, lying beside him. She stroked his white-blond hair until his breathing was soft and even. 

Even after he was fast asleep, she couldn't relax enough to go to sleep as well. She rolled onto her back. Her breath still came out ragged and heavy. Her heart still pounded in her ears. Every noise registered, crashing into her mind. Alexei was shuffling below her, as he took care of food and dishes. Tree branches scraped at the house. The wooden floor boards creaked with the shifting of the winds outside. The rain pounded on the roof. There was the distant sound of cars on a road. 

She swept eyes across the room numerous times, fearing she missed something with every sweep. It seemed wrong not to have traced the patterns of the wallpaper until she could picture them perfectly with her eyes closed. Wrong that she didn't know the location of every weakness in the floor or every crack in the wall or chip in the paint. Closing her eyes only seemed to make things worse. 

She heard footsteps across the concrete floor, nearing the bed. Phantom footsteps. Slow, deliberate and familiar. She couldn't help but expect to be grabbed onto and ripped from the bed. Her eyes flew open again and she sat up. She touched the boy beside her just once lightly, needing tactile confirmation that he was still there. 

She climbed out of the bed slowly, despite the way her back and legs stung and tingled. Her vision blurred momentarily, a wave of nausea sweeping through her. She took careful steps into the bathroom, then froze. Captured by an enemy she never expected. She moved her hand up to her face slowly, having to confirm with the action that it was her own reflection in the mirror. 

She moved her boney fingers across sunken cheeks and pale skin. She fingered her stringy, dark hair, pulling at it and then letting it fall limply against her shoulders. Deep purple circles were beneath her eyes. Even the reflection of her wrist seemed far more painful than it should. She looked down and touched the bruised skin. Her fingers trembled. She pushed back the sleeves of her shirt, examining the scars and bruises. Her own fault. She felt her stomach absently, poking her tender ribs once and wincing. 

She stepped out of the bathroom and sighed. The baby was still sleeping soundly. He'd been so exhausted. She went to the door, unlocking it and opening it cautiously. She took quiet steps, heading down the stairs. She paused as she reached the bottom step, hearing Alexei's voice. He was on the phone. 

"Everything will be done just as you requested sir...no, I doubt there'll be any problems...They are both resting now...They look...like they've been through a lot...No, she looks far worse than the boy...She seemed very concerned and protective of him... She wouldn't even eat..." 

Sydney stepped into the room. 

Alexei jumped slightly to see her. "She's...awake," he said into the phone. After a pause, he awkwardly held it out to her. "Mr. Sark would like to speak with you." 

Sydney took the phone slowly and pressed it to her ear. "Hello," she said, softly. Alexei stepped into the downstairs hallway to give her some privacy. 

"Settled in?" Sark questioned. 

"Yes," she answered, simply. She sighed and sunk into a chair at the table. "Thank you." 

"Are you ready to tell me what on earth is going on?" 

"It's complicated." 

"Sydney," he said sharply. 

"It'd be too difficult to tell you everything now. I could explain much better in person." 

"Tell me _something_," he ordered. 

She was silent a moment, then finally said, "The most important thing you need to know about the Syndicate." 

"Who?" 

"It's an organization of people who are convinced that Rambaldi was rightly executed. They believe that his manuscripts and inventions should have all been destroyed with him. They seek to destroy anything of his they can find, and anyone they can find who seem to be followers of him. Most recently, they've taken an interest in you." 

"They were the ones launching attacks on my facilities," Sark realized. 

"Yes," Sydney answered, tiredly. "The locations of those facilities were given to them." 

"Given?" he questioned, obvious displeasure in his tone. 

"They wanted information or else they would have killed your son." She rattled off an address near Kiev. "That's the location of the facility we were being held in." 

There was a pause. "Sydney, how did they even find you?" 

"I was involved in my own investigation and it led me right to them." She rose from the table, and lowered her voice. "Look, maybe I shouldn't have called you before, I just I didn't have a lot of options and...I thought since it involved your son, you might--" 

"Sydney, I'm glad you called," he interjected. "I want to help...both of you, if you'll let me." 

Sydney frowned slightly. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Alexei will give you the proper money and identification to get a flight to London. I'll meet you at Victoria Station. Platform 12. 6pm, tomorrow. When you get here, you can explain everything, and then we'll figure out what to do." 

"Okay," Sydney responded. "I'll see you then." She was ready to hang up the phone. 

"Sydney?" Sark's voice came once more. "How is he?" 

She glanced towards the stairwell, listening for any noise. "He's asleep." 

"No, how is he _really_?" 

She was silent a moment, debating how to explain. "We were there, a long time. The world is new to him. It's going to take some time for him to adjust." Sydney shivered slightly. 

"You're really concerned about him, aren't you?" She couldn't believe how surprised Sark sounded. 

Sydney bristled. "Of course I'm concerned! I _love_ him. And if you had any idea what the past five months have been like for us, then you'd be just as concerned!" 

"Sydney, calm down, please." He sighed. "We'll talk tomorrow." 

"See you then." She responded emotionlessly and ended the call. She dropped it and clasped her hands trying to keep them from shaking. 

Alexei appeared in the room again almost immediately. "Please, let me fix you something to eat." 

Sydney shook her head. "I'm not hungry." She stood and turned towards the stairs. "I've been away from him too long already anyway." 

Alexei moved to follow her. "I can tend to the boy if he wakes. Take some time to care for yourself." She placed a foot on the step and Alexei grabbed her arm. "Please--" 

She spun on him, grabbing his hand firmly in her own. "If you touch me again, I'll break your hand. Clear?" 

Alexei nodded, fighting a pained expression. 

She released him and headed up the steps. She entered her room and locked the door behind her. She sat down on the bed, checking the baby. He whimpered lightly in his sleep, and she pulled him into her arms. She cuddled him closely until he was quiet again. As she laid him beside her once more, her own eyes drooped, and she gave into an exhausted sleep. 

Review Replies  
Grace: Yes, I know, there was zero Sark in Ch. 5. But the timeline of the story just went through a period where he hadn't been around. Thanks for reading. 

Landi104: Jack? Oh you mean those voices at the end of Ch. 5. I can tell you that neither was Jack, but I'ml leaving it at that. Thanks for the review. 

Niki & Mockingbird4: The closer I get to the beginning of the story, the more I think that THIS fic will not continue from where it starts. A sequel that goes forwards might...Thanks for reading. 

equisetum: It's been an experience and a lot of work. I don't think I'll be writing backwards again anytime soon but I've been enjoying this too. I don't know how specifically you're questioning where Sydney was before she was with the Syndicate, but the basic answer, is that she was out researching Vaughn's death. Writing about the way every handled dealing with Sydney after her return was fun. Thank's for the review. 

jennzabell: I don't know anything about a Scully-chip, but I think it sounds like you're on the right track with your questions. The answers to your questions in order after that are: No. You'll see. The escape is in the 2nd half of this chapter to be posted soon. No. (Um, interesting math but no) Answers to the other two questions coming soon. Rambaldi is a factor, but not in the normal way, as you can see from reading this chapter, they're just a group against Rambaldi rather than for. Love that I keep you guessing, I expect the ending to be pretty surprising, hopefully in a good way. 

Lisa: I don't know about discouraged exactly, but I do love the reviews that I get. I have had a bit of writer's block on this fic lately. Detailed reviews are surely the cure. ;) 

sarsy: Aw, sorry I confused you. I think it's sort of a side-effect of this story. Confusion. There's some interesting things to note in that final conversation, but don't be so sure you know who's on the phone. The goal of the Syndicate as explained in this chapter is to destroy Rambaldi and stop his followers. In the previous chapter, she explained ho w she got in her way. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, I missed you last update. And I know you keep asking that I keep the chapters as long as they are, but splitting them gives me more time to complete updates, as well as more opportunities for reviews. Plus, I think it's a bit easier to digest, and reviews focus on more than just the very last "big" scene. ;) Didn't want you to think I was just ignoring your request, but I have my reasons. 


	8. In the freedom of escape cont

_A/N: I'm alive. Here's the 2nd half of Part 6. But it may still be awhile before Part 7 is done. _

One Hour Earlier 

The knock was so soft that he almost couldn't distinguish it from the pitter-patter of rain. He peeked out the window to see a disheveled woman. Her brown hair was damp with rain. She wore no coat. He opened the door. She stiffened and eyed him suspiciously. 

He smiled at her. "I've been expecting you," he greeted in Ukrainian. 

She didn't look pleased. She shifted and with one quick swoop pointed a gun at him. 

He frowned slightly. "Sydney Bristow?" 

"Who are you?" she necessitated. 

His hands flew up. "I'm Alexei. Sark told me to me to expect you. To take care of you. To get you papers and tickets. You're Sydney Bristow. You were to be traveling with a baby. And if anything happens to either of you, it will be on my head." 

She stared at him a second longer. 

He realized she had no child with her and glanced out into the rain. "But...where is the baby?" 

She lowered her gun and he lowered his hands. She stepped away from the door and went to the side of the house. It was almost a minute before she returned with a child wrapped heavily in a gray blanket to protect him from the elements She stepped inside and Alexei closed the door behind her. She took a seat at his table and pulled the blanket down from the child's white-haired head. 

Alexei smiled as the baby looked up at him with bright, blue eyes. "May I?" he asked, holding out his arms. 

Sydney gave him a glare. "He needs to eat," she responded. 

He nodded. "I'd already begun to prepare." The call from Sark had been so strange and serious. He'd given him the most explicit of instructions, as if he trusted him with everything and nothing all at once. 

Alexei turned to get out the food, but couldn't help but wonder about this woman, this Sydney. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She never took an eye off him either, even as she fussed over the child. Her brow was heavy with concern as she carefully examined every inch of the boy. Alexei pretended not to notice as he began setting food on the table, but he noted she found light bruises on the child's arms. The baby was quieter than any child he'd ever seen. Not babbling or cooing or even whimpering. 

"Is this alright?" he asked, interrupting the silence. 

She startled before looking at him. She looked at the table as if noticing the food for the first time. She looked far less pleased by it than he would have expected for someone as thin as she was. She began tearing the food into smaller pieces and feeding the baby. Her hands trembled. Unnaturally. Slightly. Not from fear or cold. She hardly seemed to notice it. The boy began to push away food after a short time. She looked to him expectantly. 

Alexei took out a bottle immediately, filling it with milk. He heated it, testing to make sure it wasn't too hot before handing it back to her. She tested it herself anyway, exposing a purplish black wrist, raw and indented a good two centimeters all the way around. He stared before catching himself when she looked up at him again. 

"What's his name?" Alexei asked, as Sydney began giving the baby a bottle. 

"None of your business," she snapped. Her eyes gave him a look as if thinking him an idiot for asking. 

Perhaps he was. Beyond her name, he knew nothing about her. But he wouldn't be surprised if asking her any other questions got him another gun in his face. Yet, she was ever so gentle with the baby. He realized she still hadn't made any attempt to eat the food. Perhaps she didn't like it. 

"I can prepare something else," he offered. "It'd be no trouble." 

Sydney glanced back towards the table, grimacing as if food disgusted her in her some way. "He just needs to rest now." She rose from the table. 

The statement seemed so odd. As if taking care of the baby meant taking care of both of them. Or as if only he mattered. 

"I set up a room for you. This way," Alexei finally managed to say. He led the way into the hall and up the steps. He saw her wince as she started to climb the steps, but she didn't complain. He entered the first room on the second floor landing. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. 

She took in the room first from the doorway. He saw her note the windows, the table, the bed, and the blankets. She tested the lock on the door then nodded. 

"I'll...let you rest," Alexei responded. He turned to leave the room and closed the door as he exited. He heard her lock it behind him. 

_2 Hours Earlier_

The young agent paused in the doorway, then straightened and approached the desk. "Final report, sir. Casualties seven: five dead, two wounded." 

Sark took the folder without looking at it and without a word. 

The agent hesitated then continued. "It's strange, isn't it, sir? All the attacks on these old facilities in the past five months." 

Sark looked up at the agent. "It's obvious someone is betraying their locations. So far, the attacks have been on the old facilities. Someone is making small sacrifices." 

The agent looked down, as if he had thought the same but didn't want to be the one to say it. He might have stayed longer but Sark's phone rang. The agent left to allow him to attend to business. 

Sark placed the phone to his ear, but before he had the chance to speak, static cackled in his ear. Then, a clear word came through the static. "Hello?" 

He was startled to hear her voice. "Sydney?" 

There was a relieved sigh. "I was afraid this--that you--" She couldn't seem to finish a thought. 

"Sydney, why are you calling?" Sark interjected. He listened to the noises behind her voice. The sound of cars roaring by on a busy road. The pitter patter of rain. 

"I can't call anyone else, not without--I couldn't risk...if they find us again...they'll--" There were odd breaks between her words where she inhaled sharply. 

Sark frowned. "I know about your little investigation. I don't know what you found or how you found it, but my organization is under attack. What did you do?" 

"Nothing!" Sydney exclaimed, indignantly. She sounded near tears. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Prague. Oslo. Madrid. The list goes on. How many compound locations have been compromised?" 

Sydney was silent on the opposite end, finally she conceded. "I don't know." 

"Tell me what's going on." 

"O'Reilly's dead. That's what's going on! And if we don't get out of here, I'm next. Followed by your son!" 

Sark straightened. "He's there with you now? What happened? Where are you?" 

"I couldn't leave him! I don't know who they were, or even what they wanted, exactly. We're in...Kiev. We can't stay here..." 

"I'll direct you to an associate I have there. He'll take care of you both." 

There was a long silence. 

"Sydney?" 

"Alright," she said distractedly. "Tell me how to find your associate." 

_1 Hour Earlier_

Grigori thought his eyes were playing tricks. He slowed his taxi and realized he did indeed see a woman with a gray bundle stumbling along the side of the road in front of him. He frowned. They were miles from anything. He hadn't seen any cars broken down on the side of the road. Where had she come from? 

He passed her and then pulled over to the side of the road. As he opened his car door, he realized it smelled like rain. He stepped out and looked back at her. 

She halted, not coming any closer. She shifted the bundle in her arms and eyed him cautiously. She looked exhausted. 

"Are you alright?" Grigori questioned. 

She was silent. Her eyes darted from the car and to his face. She seemed a moment from tears. 

He took a step forward. "Do you need some help?" 

She took a step back. 

He froze, thinking it had been some time since anyone had seemed even a little intimidated by him. He was over fifty years old, not as fit as he should be, and the white fuzz peeking around the edge of his cap was the only hair he had. Grigori sighed. "It's going to rain. The nearest town is more than ten miles away. I could at least give you a ride there. No charge." 

She moved forward until she was just a couple feet from him. She peered into taxi. "Alright," she said, hoarsely. 

Grigori smiled. He opened up the door to the backseat and she climbed inside. He shut it behind her, climbed into the front seat, closed his door, and pulled back onto the road. "My name's Grigori, by the way," he said, hoping to get a name out of her. 

"What is the nearest town?" was her response. 

"Kiev," he answered, watching her eyes in the review mirror. 

She frowned slightly, with a processing look in her eyes. 

He turned on his wipers as rain drops dotted his windshield. 

The bundle in her arms moved, and he heard a weak cry. She resituated it in her arms, pulling the blanket off the head of a small child. 

He widened his eyes in surprise. "If you don't mind me asking, what were you…two doing out there? How did you even get all the way out there without any transportation?" 

She was silent a moment. Finally, she took a deep breath. "I need you not to ask me any questions. Not about me or him." She nodded towards the baby. "Or what happened to us. I know you don't understand, but I just need to get to Kiev, and make a phone call." Her tone made him realize she wasn't making a plea. She was simply informing him. 

Grigori nodded. "No questions," he agreed, immediately. 

With that, the woman sat back in the seat and hugged the baby close to her. The baby stuck a thumb in his mouth, laid against her chest and closed his eyes. 

The rest of the drive was quiet. He kept an eye on his backseat passenger through the rearview mirror, hoping to learn something about her. Her eyes betrayed nothing. She rubbed the child's back absently. She shuddered every so often, as though a chill only she felt ran through her intermittently. She took in their surroundings and regarded him with a careful glance every so often. 

They came across the first phone on barely the edge of town. Her eyes caught it immediately. He pulled over to it and stopped the car. "You're sure you wouldn't like to find another phone, maybe nearby some place you could get a room for the night?" 

"Here's fine," she answered. She pulled her door handle. The baby startled with a small whine. "It's okay," she told him. She pulled the blanket over him to shield him from the rain. 

Grigori stepped out into the rain as well. As she closed her car door, he held out some change in his hand. 

She took it slowly. "Thank you." She looked at the phone but didn't move towards it. 

Grigori glanced at it and then back at her. "Are you alright?" he questioned. 

She shot him a look. 

He stepped back. "I know you said no questions. I'm sorry. And right now, maybe you aren't. I just--are you going to be alright?" 

She stared at him. "I don't know," she admitted. She turned and headed for the phone. 

He climbed back into the taxi and watched her. 

She picked up the receiver, and held it to her ear. She seemed to debate silently with herself for a while. But finally, she took a deep breath and dialed a number she obviously had memorized quickly. Her back turned to him before he had the opportunity to see if she actually spoke to anyone. 

He turned off the car to wait. 

_Two Hours Earlier_

It was a while before she finally felt it safe enough to slow down to a walk. She wasn't dressed for it to be as cold as it was. Sydney hadn't known what to expect she'd see outside. There were plenty of trees. And sky. And wind. The baby ducked as if lowering himself would allow him to dodge the wind. Sydney patted him comfortingly and pulled the gray blanket around him more securely. 

She glanced back, listening for sounds of anything threatening. She heard nothing, finally slowed and put the child down. He protested by gripping onto her shirt, and letting his legs go limp. But she put him down anyway, and he sunk into a sitting position. His chin quivered, but his eyes caught sight of the ground. He blinked and cautiously reached out towards the thin leafy things all around him. 

"It's grass," she told him, kneeling down, touching it also. The things he'd missed being stuck in four walled rooms with tile or concrete floors. 

He waved his hand across it, delighted to see it bend and flatten at even his small strength, and then stand up again when he released it. He gripped onto and moved it one way and then another. Then, he pulled his hand back quick surprised when the grass came with it. He squeaked in surprise and held out his hand to show her. 

"It's okay." She ripped up some grass to show him and let it rain through her fingers. 

With a mischievous grin, he took large handfuls and pulled them out. He released one handful and let it rain back to the ground just as she had done. He crushed it and opened his hand to stare at it seriously. Then, he slowly moved the handful towards his mouth. 

She grimaced, reached out and gently brushed the grass from his hand before he could it. She stood up and pulled his hand. He stood and walked beside her. Three steps to her one and then lagging even more as he waked staring straight up. He squinted at the sunlight in his eyes. 

She found herself looking up just to see what he was seeing. The sun…puffy clouds…the patches of blue. She'd missed the sky. She looked down at him. A smile was tugging at his lips. He'd missed it too. 

He pulled away from her hand and took off running towards the nearest tree. He stopped just as he reached it. He looked at her. 

"Tree," she stated, with a small smile of her own. 

He patted it gently and giggled. 

She picked him up and let him touch a thin branch. He ripped off some twigs and leaves and stuffed them in his pockets, obviously collecting some souvenirs. She almost laughed, bringing him close to her again, and rubbing her nose against his cheek. He could make her forget this wasn't some stroll through a park. That she had no clue if she was getting closer or further away from a city or town. That she didn't even know what country she was in. 

He wriggled, wanting to be put down and she obeyed. The boy was on an adventure. With a little more bounce in his step, he scampered a step or two ahead of her, looking for more wonders to stuff in his pockets. Flower petals, pebbles. Anything new and different that didn't manage to scurry away from him. 

But she didn't hesitate to snatch him up when she heard movement in the trees somewhere ahead. She pulled him into her arms protectively and he went silent. He always read her and seemed to obey her instincts. Possible danger meant to be quiet. She crept towards the noises, slowly and quietly. She peeked through the foliage and there was a patch of brown. She relaxed. A deer. It realized she was there to and eyed her as suspiciously as she had eyed it. She lifted the child so he could see. He blinked his eyes as this odd creature. He might have run towards it if she'd put him down, but she thought it best to leave the animal in peace. 

She turned to take a different path through the trees, heading further west. It was getting later. She considered looking simply for a place to try and turn into a shelter. But she couldn't bring herself to stop walking. Even as the child tired of walking on his own and she was forced to carry him again. Her ribs ached. The baby drooped. Her legs felt strained and her feet throbbed. 

A flash of gray wandered out of the trees. She tensed, her hand reaching for a gun to fight some wild creature. But the animal came to a stand still. It was a grayish brown skinny dog with strangely shaped spots. Probably a stray. It stopped and raised its head towards them curiously, then wagged a tail and came forward sniffing. It sniffed around her once then sat down. 

She lowered one hand slowly and it licked her fingers in a friendly fashion. The baby turned to look down at the animal. "It's a dog," she explained. She knelt slowly and the animal sniffed the both of them then licked the child's cheek. Sydney reached out and patted the animal gently. The baby hesitantly did the same. He giggled and applauded. 

The dog sniffed them once more thoroughly and then headed off. 

The baby whimpered plaintively as the animal began to disappear. Sydney sighed; she had no better route to follow. She imagined she'd been walking for hours. The scenery around her was different. Different trees. Different views of clouds. Different views of the sky. But she didn't seem to be any closer to town. She followed the dog, just close enough to keep him in sight for the baby. And when the boy went to sleep in her arms, the dog was company. She realized he was more than that when up ahead she realized she saw road. A road would have to lead her to a house or town. The dog continued across the road and bounded off into the distance. 

Sydney turned and began walking parallel to the road. The baby breathing lightly in her ear was the only noise besides the sound of her own footsteps. It was beginning to smell like rain. 

_3 Hours Earlier_

"They're coming now, Akiva," Anton announced. 

The guards filed into the room. The short haired blonde woman beside him lifted her head. 

Anton pointed to a dark haired woman. "That's her. Sydney Bristow." She trudged in expressionless. The thin beige jumpsuit she wore had more color than her waxen face. Her eyes sunk in, the skin puffy and purple beneath them. She kept her head bowed. She had no interest in where she was going and let the guards pull her along. The restraints on her wrists dug into already bruised skin. 

Akiva opened her mouth to speak when the final guard entered with a baby in his arms. The child was small, obviously not much more than a year old. He was frozen in the guards arms, not struggling. He was completely silent. But unlike Sydney, his blue eyes were wide and taking in everything in the room. Akiva's nose wrinkled. "What's that?" 

"The baby?" Anton confirmed. "Keeping him nearby keeps her cooperative." 

Akiva frowned to the woman in the room. She couldn't even stand up straight. How could she still require coercion to keep her cooperative? "She's been with us for months and this _baby_," she emphasized the word with obvious disgust, "is the only way you can control her?" 

"Not the _only_ way," Anton responded, indignantly. He gestured towards one of the electric batons a guard held. "But this way, she's still quite able to complete those tests you so desire." 

Akiva crossed the room and looked at the baby. She took one of the child's hands between her thumb and forefinger, lifting his arm slightly as if the baby were some odd creature for study. She noted Sydney's eyes rose ever so slightly to watch her. "Who's the father of this child?" 

Anton shrugged, not seeing the importance. "We've never gotten confirmation. We think it's probably Mr. Sark." 

Akiva's lips curled into a grin. "Really." Her expression quickly switched to a sneer. "You've had quite the asset here, Anton, and you're using him as leverage against a prisoner. I'm disappointed in you." She dropped to boy's hand and he held it protectively to his chest. 

Anton frowned at her. "How do _you_ propose we use him?" 

Akiva stepped away from the prisoners. "Mr. Sark is one of the primary people having success in acquiring Rambaldi artifacts. We might be able to gain access to him through this...boy." She clasped her hands together, already madly in love with in her own idea. "We'll inform Sark we have his son, and that if he does not comply with our wishes, the boy will be terminated." 

Anton looked at the baby. "Akiva--" 

"This is not up for debate, Anton." Akiva turned to the guard with the child. "Take him to Pierre. Take two fingers and get them prepared to be mailed." She glanced at Sydney and smiled sideways. "Take her along and have her watch. If she does anything to interfere...then, take three fingers." Akiva looked at them expectantly but for a moment, no one moved. "Go!" she ordered. 

Anton nodded slightly and the guards filed out immediately, with firm grips on their prisoners. They shuffled them down the hallway to an elevator, down another maze of hallways and into a lab. 

The brightness of the room assaulted her eyes. She winced slightly as the guards pulled her inside. The last guard entered behind them and she saw the baby pass right in front of her. There was a table in the center of the room. She lifted her eyes slowly to look around the room. She saw the man in the lab-coat and took a step back. The hands on her dug deeper into her bony arms, pulled her forward and made her sit in a chair. 

The man in the lab coat directed the boy be placed on the table. The guard holding the boy whispered into his ear. The man in the lab coat nodded. 

_"Take two fingers and get them prepared to be mailed....If she does anything to interfere...then, take three fingers."_

"No," she whispered. 

The guard nearest her shook his head. "You best be quiet. You know better." 

The man in the lab coat made the boy lay down on the table. The child started to curl up, but the guard roughly grabbed him and made him lie flat. The boy froze and didn't move. The guard moved a hand away from the boy's body, laying it underneath a spotlight. He secured a strap to one of the child's wrist. 

The man in the lab coat put rubber gloves on his hands. He began to swab the child's hand with disinfectant. His blue eyes were wide watching them. Her own eyes blurred, she hung her head, hugging her hands to her chest. The guards stood just in front of her, blocking her from crossing the room to the table. 

The gloved hands filled a syringe. The gloved hands began wrapping tape around all but the boy's thumb and forefinger. 

She swallowed, but she could hardly breathe. 

The man in the lab coat opened a drawer; he removed a scalpel and examined it. Then, he looked across the room directly at her. With his eyes still on her, he set aside the scalpel, and opened another drawer, removing a rather large butcher knife. He began to disinfect the knife. 

She felt so cold. Her head ached. The world in front of her began to blur away. Tears leaked out of her eyes and down her cheeks. There was a cough, and then a wail. The room focused again. The guard was holding the arm of the struggling child still. The man in the lab coat was poising his knife for a clean chop. The guards in front of her were staring straight ahead blankly. Their hands were at their sides, their guns in holsters at their waists. 

Her fingers tingled. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing behind her eyes. She watched her hand stretch out and draw the gun from the holster of the guard in front of her. A fist pounded into her head, but she held her grip and four shots sounded. The room flashed white and blue. There was shuffling, movement from the figures sinking in front of her. Her fingers contracted. Four more shots. Her nose filled with the smell of smoke and copper. She fished keys from the pocket of a fallen guard and released herself from the restraints. 

She moved to the table, to the only movement left in the room. The boy face was wet with tears. His wails reached her ears, along with coughs and hiccups. She looked down at the small hand that had been strapped to the table. It was drenched in dark crimson blood. 

The gun tumbled from her hands. 

_"He's just a baby! You can't hurt him." _

"Can't we?" 

"There's no reason!" 

"Isn't there?" 

"What do you want? I'll do whatever you want!" 

"Yes, you will. Or this will happen again." 

"If you need to hurt someone, then hurt me." 

A wail. 

"Stop! Please. NO!" 

She grabbed a nearby cloth and began wiping off the hand. How many fingers? How many fingers? One. Two. Three. A cut. The baby was bleeding. But. Four. Five. Just a cut. Superficial. All five fingers. All five fingers! Wiping the hand again left nothing but a scratch across his knuckles, hardly even bleeding. Not his blood. Not his blood! She wiped the hand once more with the cloth. She ran a hand across his head and he began to quiet. 

Then, Sydney turned, and picked up two guns from the guards at her feet. She holstered one around her waist and held the other. Then, she searched the guard's pockets, taking passcards. An alarm blared in her ears. The boy startled and began to shake. She glanced up. She spotted a camera in the corner of the room. She pulled the boy into her arms and darted into the hallway. Using one of the passcards she gained access to a stairwell. She pounded it up three flights, then halted and peeked into the hallway. She leaned over to put the baby down beside the door. His small fingers clung to her shirt and her hair, but he resigned himself to sitting when she pulled away. 

She held the two guns firmly in each hand and yanked open the door. There was movement from the end of the hall. Then, motion from another section of the hall. A door to one of the offices opened. Her fingers contracted and the sound exploded in her ears three times. 

Movement ceased. 

She went back to the stairwell and leaned over. The boy clung to her neck, and she balanced him on hip. She went into the open office, sat down at a computer console. It was still logged in by the guard who'd stepped into the hallway. She hugged the baby to her and began calling up a map of the facility and a security grid. Her fingers tapped the keyboard and numerous access screens flashed by her. Security feeds. Passcard cancellations. Fire protocols. Emergency lockdowns. 

She abandoned the computer, grabbed the baby and headed back into the hallway. The alarm stopped blaring. She ran her passcard and slipped through a security point. As the door closed, footsteps pounded behind her. The door to the access point closed. Through bulletproof glass, she watched the team of guards try and swipe their passcards. An annoying buzzer sounded each time informing them their passcards were unrecognized. 

She found an open elevator at the end of the hall and stepped inside. She rode it to the ground floor level. She sat the baby to the side of the elevator, just as the doors opened. Immediately, gunfire sounded. She threw herself to the side of the elevator, as bullets peppered the walls. She pressed a button and closed the doors again. The sound ricochets off the door reverberated through the car. She slammed her hand into the elevator buttons, sending them down a floor. She stayed to the side of the car, guns in hand. 

The doors slid open. 

Silence. 

She took a deep breath and dared to step into the doorway. The hallway was empty. That certainly wasn't going to last. She grabbed the baby and darted into a nearby lab. She put him down, made a quick assessment of her surroundings and began gathering items. Checking labels. Breaking thermometers. Her hands poured liquid into glass vials. Red liquid and clear liquid with a yellow tint. Stoppers into vials. Tape around two vials each. Two in her in pocket. One in hand. A blanket over the baby's head. 

She picked him up and opened the door. Guards were standing at the elevator, arms moving in anger and confusion. Her hand flew forward, propelling the one set of vials. She didn't watch, she just ran. A clatter of glass. An explosion of noise and screams and heat. An alarm. Flashing lights. Sprinklers. 

The baby squeaked in panic, shifting in her arms.. 

She hugged him closer and rushed up the stairs at the end of the opposite hall. She peeked into the corridor at the top of the steps. Guards still poised by the nearby elevator. She took the vials taped in her pocket. Her hand flew forward. She watched a muted movie play before her. People flying through the air. Orange and yellow flames dancing. Debris, smoke, heat. She took off in the other direction. But people were rushing towards the commotion. She fired around corners before she turned them. One gun empty. Discard. 

Multiple sets of heavy footsteps rushing towards her from a hallway she hadn't entered. She ducked into an office. They passed. She peeked out again and hurried around another corner. A security checkpoint. Passcard refused. Passcard refused. She fired her weapon at the glass. Nothing. She fired at the security keypad. Another empty gun. Discard. She pulled away the casing and quickly rewired. The door hissed open and she hurried through. 

She quickly rounded a corner. Sunlight! Windows! An exit was close. Another corner. A blunt force hit her and she fell to the ground, catching herself on one hand and hugging the baby to her chest with the other so she didn't land on top of him. He cried out in fright as she let him go slowly, unable to hold him. He crawled out from under her, just as a force connected with her ribcage and she toppled. 

She rolled over to see the guard towering over her. She kicked his legs out from under him and he fell to the floor beside her. He caught himself on his knees, reached out and threw a punch toward her face. If he connected, she didn't feel it. She scrambled towards where his gun had fallen. She gripped onto it and brought her hand back just in time to whirl around and hit his face. He recoiled, holding his nose, and she got to her feet, aiming the gun at him. She took several steps backwards and he stood up as well. 

The guard gave her a defiant look. She kept her aim, but hesitated. Choked cries reached her ears. 

A sideways smile formed on his face as he stared past her. She could see the boy from the corner of her eye, sitting on the floor watching them. His face was completely red and his mouth wide open, crying harder than she'd seen him cry in weeks. 

She took another step back and he lunged at her. The gun went off and he fell to the ground in midleapt. She bent over and grabbed keys and a passcard from him. 

She turned to the baby whose mouth was wide open but silent as he gathered air for a scream. She scooped him up, but he remained rigid in her arms. She patted him slightly and a scream finally escaped him. He buried his face in her shoulder. 

They escaped the building through a doorway at the end of a the hall. Cold wind assaulted them immediately. She stepped back to get a look at the exterior of the building, as she'd never seen it before. A tan building, cement, unimpressive. The area around it had sparse grass, there was mostly sand and dirt. Nothing to give her any clue where she was. 

The child in her arms even looked around wildly. He stifled his screams to whimpers, afraid to cry in such an unfamiliar environment. His small fingers clung to her shirt. 

Sydney frowned at what she didn't see. Any form of transportation for a getaway. A gravel road led away from the facility, perhaps to a main road that was beyond her view. Tire tracks led back to the facility and through windows, she saw them. Large trucks behind strong secured doors. A barrel of gasoline was beside the doors. She moved towards it, running her passcard through a keypad. It was rejected. Her eyes widened at the sight of men entering the garage. 

She backed away and started to run. Even if lockdown procedures were still in effect they'd get those doors open eventually and then they'd find her. She stopped running, and pulled the last two taped vials she had. She threw the vials at the barrel and ran. The sound of explosion was almost immediately drowned out by a concussive blast, and rush of heat from behind her. She didn't stop running. She didn't look back. 

Review Replies:  
landi104: He was an interesting character to create. Thanks for the review. :) 

sasori: I always wonder if anyone notices the baby is only called "baby, boy, child" in the narrative and if they do, then if they wonder why I do it. Yep, reread it backwards. Hope things become clearer that way. 

jennzabell: Thank you for your explanation of the Scully-chip. But I can assure you there is no chip inside Syd's head. As least not as far as I know at this time. 5 months in a controlled environment gave Syd a lot of things to readjust to. As you can see in this part, the baby had a lot of things he had to get used to as well. 

Sarsy: Or whatever character development backwards would be called. Lol. It's a mixture of seeing the strong Sydney who'd do anything to get away, even though she's truly scared out of her mind, unsure if she's going to be able to avoid recapture, and then being generally distrusting of everyone around her since it's been so long since she's had anyone but herself to rely on. 

grace, cruzstar & inqustive1: Thank you for reading and for your reviews. 

Mockingbird: The train station was quite the scene to write. But I wanted to start the part off with action because this was to be an action chapter, and it was finally time to explain the gunshot wound. This whole part was just about how much Sydney had to go through to escape. 

knx: Thanks. Angst is my favorite type of fic to write. And technically the Sarkney-ishness of it all is new for me as well. 

Thanks again everyone for the reviews! 


	9. In the rain of tears

_A/N: Never mind my previous estimates on how long this story is. I honestly have no idea. This part is half of what I planned for part 7 to be. So the other half will now be Part 8 and what I planned to be part 8 will be Part 9 (or possibly Parts 9 and 10 if that decides to be endless too)._

The following part, while still rated PG-13, contains some pretty disturbing events. Just thought I'd warn you. 

**_Part 7: In the rain of tears…_**

One Day Earlier   
Anton looked up from his desk to see Romanov in the doorway. In his hand was an amethyst at the end of a silver chain that he threaded between his fingers. 

"What do you need, Mikhail?" 

"I need to see Sydney Bristow." 

Anton raised an eyebrow. "I've already increased the number of visits you have with her. Now you need even more?" 

Romanov rethreaded the chain through his fingers, bringing the stone up and grasping it in his palm. "I have a test to run." 

Anton looked up at him. "For the project?" 

Romanov nodded. "Exactly." 

Anton nodded. "Proceed." 

Romanov exited the office. He was down to the cell a few minutes later. The guards gave him questioning glances as he approached the door. They moved into a ready stance as he opened the door. 

Sydney was sitting on the floor of the cell with the baby. She'd apparently either been singing or talking, but as she saw him step into the doorway she fell silent. She rose carefully, stiffly, a fearful look apparent in her eyes. He hid a smug grin, at the effect of his presence. She moved forward slightly, placing herself in front of the child at her feet. He saw her eyes processing, trying to figure out what he was doing there, what she could have done wrong to bring him. Why he had come to her instead of her being brought to him. He could see she wasn't about to move from the spot where she stood. He crossed the room slowly, not wanting to startle her. 

She watched him, without moving, without speaking. 

He stopped just in front of her, lifted his hand and let the amethyst fall from his palm just in front of her face, hanging from his fingers by the silver chain. Her eyes left his face uncertainly to focus on the necklace. Her brow creased in confusion and then she stumbled backwards two steps, almost tripping over the baby. 

A blank look overtook her eyes then she focused on something not in the room. Her hands trembled, tears leaked from her eyes as she began to cry silently. 

"Sit down, Sydney," he ordered. 

She did as told, sitting immediately. Her hands formed into fists and she held them to her chest. 

The baby stood and toddled towards her. He frowned, watching as the child trying to climb into her lap. She didn't acknowledge the baby's presence at all and he just leaned against her trembling form. 

Romanov moved forward and lifted the baby away from her, setting him down a few feet away. Her eyes didn't even follow his movements. She just tensed more, still quaking continuously. 

"Tell me, Sydney, are you still affiliated with the CIA?" 

She shook her head, wincing as if in pain. "No," she breathed. 

"When was the last time you had contact with them?" He knelt down trying to make eye contact with her. 

"I don't know." Her face remained blank. 

"Rough estimate," he ordered, sharply. 

"More than two years." 

"What did you know about the Syndicate during that time period?" 

Her eyes closed and she shook her head. She responded in a whisper. "Nothing." 

"One more question then. What is the location of the Rambaldi artifacts held by your government?" 

She seemed to hesitate, breathing shakily. 

"The location of the artifacts, Sydney," he pressed. 

"An NSA facility in Nevada," she whispered. 

His eyebrows raised. "How do you know this?" 

She shivered. "I heard about a failed attempt to raid the facility two years ago." 

He ran a hand through her hair, stroking it. She whimpered and he rose and stepped away. He took a cellphone from his pocket and pressed his first speed dial. 

"Hello…yes, I need to speak to your superior immediately…this is Romanov…I have completed the final test. Project Mnemosyne is a success…Yes…Understood." He closed his phone and looked down at Sydney. 

She was shaking uncontrollably, taking shuddering deep breathes. 

Romanov placed the amethyst in his pocket as he removed a small bottle from it and sprayed a small mist into the air. The room began to smell lightly of cinnamon. He looked down at Sydney once more, before turning and exiting the room. 

It was through blurry vision that Sydney realized that she was in her cell. She glanced around, somehow expecting to see something out of place. The baby was on the other side of the room watching her as if he wasn't sure whether he should come over to her or not. 

She stood up, not sure why she felt so stiff. She unclenched her fists and moved towards the child. She knelt down beside him and pulled him into her arms. She leaned her back against the wall, rocking the baby and herself. 

Anton was waiting in the hallway when the doctor exited. "I know what I saw. Now I want an explanation." 

Romanov started away from the cell. "You've heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anton. Involuntary intrusions of traumatic events overtaking a person as if they were happening again." 

"Flashbacks," Anton said, simply. 

"Yes. The project is to cause such flashbacks. A seemingly harmless object seen during a traumatic event, only registered subconsciously. It then can cause these prolonged flashbacks to the related trauma." Romanov took the amethyst from his pocket and dangled it in front of Anton's nose. 

"And the spray?" 

"It was a neutral stimulus to bring her out of it." 

"And what will she remember about the time she was…experiencing the flashback?" 

Romanov shook his head. "Nothing. She may experience lingering feelings of fear and uneasiness. But she'll be unable to consciously register any of what happened while she was experiencing this type of conditioned flashback." 

Anton was about to question further but just then Bronson approached him. 

"You have a phone call, sir." 

"Take a message." 

"It's Akiva, sir. She wants to discuss the things she would like to see when she visits tomorrow." 

Anton sighed. "We'll continue this later," he told Romanov. 

The doctor nodded. 

_Six Days Earlier_   
Anton looked from Bronson and Graham as he approached the cell. He gave them an impatient frown and Bronson opened the door. 

Sydney was lying on her side on the floor of her cell. She startled slightly upon hearing the door, but apparently didn't have the strength to look up and see who was coming. Her body was tensed, knees pulled up to her chest, an arm shielding her face. She was breathing heavily, whimpering ever so slightly. Her body shuddered involuntarily at random intervals. Bruises were forming on her arms, legs and face. 

He moved to stand just beside her, knelt down. He grabbed an arm, expecting her to at least rey to pull away. But instead it was limp in his hand. He pulled it away from her face and looked at her. Her eyes were almost closed, fluttering slightly. She was bleeding from a cut to the side of her face. He dropped her hand and stood. "Who ordered this?" 

Graham stepped forward immediately. "I did. She attacked me and tried to escape." 

Bronson stared ahead blankly. 

Anton watched them both a moment, before ordering, "Get her to medical." 

Graham frowned. "After what she did to me?" 

"Now," Anton snapped. 

Graham backed down. "Right away, sir." 

Anton glanced at Bronson. "And be sure they know, I'm authorizing primary treatment." 

The meal guard nodded. 

Anton headed out of the cell. An hour later he was informed that Sydney was fully setup in medical. However, when he arrived to check on her status, he was informed, "She's barely conscious." 

Anton entered the room. She was secured to the bed by restraints, with an IV in her arm administering pain medicine. However, he noted she didn't actually look any more comfortable in the bed than she had lying on the floor of her cell. Her jaw was swollen. Bruises and cuts crisscrossed her face and arms, and she had a split lip. Her eyes still fluttered, and her face was contorted uncomfortably. Her chest rose and fell in shudders. Every breath expanded bruised ribs and then retreated, regretting it. 

Anton sighed and took the seat by the bed. "You never give up, do you?" he said, dryly. "Never," he repeated softly. "No matter what we do." He knew he couldn't help but sound impressed. He honestly realized he was. 

Normally, he eyed his prisoners as foolish if they continued to fight but not her. Even if he'd pictured her the same way at first, nothing she'd done was foolish. Nothing was a half hearted, last ditch effort. Everything she did was calculated, risk weighed against benefits. He was watching her do her best against every obstacle he threw at her. She kept trying, even knowing the consequences, accepting them. She was surviving this. 

Except for this. This wasn't her. This couldn't have been a calculated effort. Graham hardly looked injured except in pride. What would there have been to gain? Unless the only purpose would have been an out. Was she giving up? Was she thinking she'd done all she could, all she was able, and now she was ready for this to be over with? 

"It won't stay this way," he found himself saying. To her. To the room. To himself. "The tests are nearly complete. Another month at the most." He sighed. "That won't be the end of it, we won't...let you go. But if we make it there, I can make sure things are more bearable here. I know none of this makes any sense now, but there are reasons, and you are _not_ going to die here." 

He noted a nurse standing in the doorway, giving him a questioning glance. The nurse shifted nervously. "She's not going to remember anything you've said to her." She swallowed, as if she expected him to be displeased by this information. 

Anton nodded. "I know." 

The nurse checked the IV bag nervously then slipped back out of the room. 

Bronson entered a few seconds after. "I was told you wanted to see me." 

Anton didn't look up at him. He was watching Sydney's chest struggling to rise and fall. "I'm reassigning Graham. I believe his expertise was put to better use in Iceland. Any objections?" He glanced up when Bronson was silent. 

The guard stiffened. "None, sir." 

Anton returned his attention to Sydney. 

Bronson didn't move and finally cleared his throat. "Was that all?" "I was told you got the baby out of the room before this happened?" 

Bronson let a worried look pass behind his eyes. "He's with one of his day guards." 

"Philippe?" Anton questioned. 

"Yes." 

"Good." 

He saw Bronson blink in surprise at an actual commendation for such a thing. 

"Now, _that_ is all." 

Bronson exited the room. 

Anton stared at the bed again. She seemed to be coming around. The pained look on her face was increasing in intensity. Her body fought her, trying to convince her that returning to consciousness was a bad idea. He watched her eyes force themselves wide open anyway. 

First, her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the room, vaguely recognizing it. Then, her arms and legs moved the millimeters they were allowed within the confines the restraints. She flexed a hand and dared to turn her head. 

He stood, moving himself into her line of vision. He moved a step closer to the bed and she flinched, her brown eyes watered slightly at the pain the sudden movement had caused. He saw it in her eyes first. Terror at seeing him here. He realized she was recalling the last time she'd awakened to this situation. He sighed. He didn't regret what he'd done then; it'd been necessary. But she was watching him now expecting the same merciless treatment. She was already breathing even more irregularly than she had been moments before. 

He turned to leave the room, knowing she wasn't going to relax until he did. Dr. Romanov was his first visitor upon his return to his office. 

"I need more sessions with her," the doctor informed him. 

"You were informed of what happened today?" Anton confirmed. 

Dr. Romanov nodded. "It is why I felt you would agree. If she is still attempting escape, then apparently, she needs more time in my care, more frequently." 

Anton blinked away the image of the woman on the bed who had looked at him with terrified eyes. He nodded. "Agreed." 

"I will prepare," Dr. Romanov answered in a satisfied tone. He was out the door before receiving a proper dismissal. 

Anton didn't care. He tried to turn his attention to paperwork. 

_Tearful, terrified eyes._

It wouldn't stay this way. 

The tests were nearly complete. 

Another month at the most. 

_Two Hours Earlier_   
She didn't want to open her eyes. 

As long as she didn't, she could be anywhere. She could be home, in her own apartment. She could be waking up any day, at any time. She could be putting off going to work or to class. She could be getting up to go have breakfast with Will and Francie. Or to a meeting with Vaughn. 

As long as she didn't open her eyes, the day didn't have to begin. 

But there was movement from beside her and she opened her eyes. Bright blue eyes were staring down at her. They lit up at her movement, and she managed a gentle smile for him. 

"Good morning," she said, in a voice she could almost convince herself was cheery. 

The boy smiled and wrapped his arms around her neck. She hugged him back. "How are you? How'd you sleep?" 

He responded by giving her a squeeze, then releasing her. He just leaned against her in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair as she did every morning, just smoothing it out as best she could with her fingers, trying to work through any tangles. Then, she turned him to face her. He grasped onto her hair and gave her a mischievous grin. 

She smiled slightly and tickled him and he giggled. It amazed her how he could giggle, but it was her favorite noise these days. He wriggled away and darted across the room, trying to get her to chase him. And she realized that as he ran around the room, he wasn't wishing to be anyplace else or with anyone else. He was content to be right there playing with her. 

"I'm coming to get you!" she said playfully. 

He squeaked and ran to the other side of the room. 

He stopped abruptly and she tensed. Sydney heard footsteps in the hallway. More than one set. Two guards this early in her day couldn't mean anything good. She moved forward and gripped the boy by the hand. She guided him to the corner farthest from the door, then sat down and held him close to her. She kept an eye on the door, tensely waiting. 

There was a series of electronic beeps and then the heavy door rumbled open. She was relieved to see who entered first, just Bronson. It was normal to see him this early. But another guard entered behind him. He had vaguely familiar gray eyes and brown hair. 

The unfamiliar guard took in the room in a single glance and then began to stare at Sydney. He turned to Bronson. "Been awhile since I've had to deal with her. She as much trouble as she used to be?" 

"No, not anymore," Bronson answered, with an disinterested tone. He gathered up empty dishes. 

Sydney turned her head and stopped looking at them. She stroked the baby's hair, listening. The boy burrowed himself against her. She whispered lightly in his ear, wanting him to stay calm. 

"Really? Makes these duties so boring when everyone is cooperative." The guard crossed his arms with a frown. "What do they train us for?" 

"I don't know." Bronson sighed. "Come on, Graham. We're done." 

"No, just a minute. We'll never get promoted if we don't do something to get noticed." 

The guard's tone prickled her ears. Sydney frowned as she realized Graham was approaching her corner. She looked up at him warily. 

"Stand up," he ordered. 

She tossed a glance at Bronson, wishing for him to get Graham to leave, but Bronson was just watching. Not seeing any other option, she rose slowly, holding the baby securely in her arms. 

Graham smiled at Bronson. "We'd get noticed for stopping an escape." There was a glint in his eyes. 

Sydney shifted uncomfortably. She could practically see the wheels turning in this guy's head. She used to try to escape all the time. No one would doubt her trying again, despite how well her behavior had been recently. 

Bronson stood by the door. "Graham, what are you going to do?" 

Graham didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on her. "Put that kid down. Don't know why they let you keep him anyway." 

Sydney shook her head slightly, not sure what he was about to do. 

Graham grabbed her arm firmly, starting to twist it. She realized if he was about to do some damage, then the baby would actually be safer out of her arms. She gently put the baby down on the floor and he toddled a few feet from them. 

Graham's face darkened. She tensed just as he struck her across the face. 

"Graham!" Bronson called sharply. "You aren't going to get anywhere by doing that." 

Graham watched her a moment, prepared for her to retaliate. A temporary meal guard. He certainly wasn't worth the trouble that would be caused if she tried to attack him. She put a hand to her aching cheek and looked him in the eye, but she didn't move towards him. 

"See, I told you. Now let's go," Bronson said, still having not moved from his spot by the door. 

Graham didn't look away from her. "What did they brainwash her completely? Does she not even remember how to fight?" He grabbed her by her sore wrists and pulled her to him. 

"I won't be apart of this," Bronson grumbled. He headed out the door. 

Sydney braced herself for whatever was next. He twisted her wrists and she bit her lip in pain. She didn't even struggle in his grasp. He let out a frustrated growl and roughly shoved her away from him and into the wall. She leaned against it, ready to remain motionless until he left. 

But out of the corner of her eye, she could see the baby watching them. Tears ran down his face and he started to toddle towards her. She shook her head at him but he held out his arms and came closer. 

Graham narrowed his eyes at the baby with an exasperated sigh. He turned away from her and shoved the baby away. The boy lost his balance and fell hard on the concrete floor. He let out a wail that rose in volume to a scream cry. 

Sydney glared at Graham and got to her feet immediately. She started to move towards the baby, but Graham grabbed her arm. "Let go," she said warningly. 

Graham glanced at the baby. "He's fine." 

Taking advantage of her unhealthily bony structure, she kneed him in the stomach. She didn't get the chance to be satisfied with her work. He coughed out a gasp as the cell door opened with Bronson and several other guards. 

Graham fell against the wall struggling to breathe. "Get her!" he choked out. 

Sydney threw up her hands in surrender as Bronson moved in and picked up the wailing child. He headed for the door. Sydney couldn't help the step she took to follow him. "No! Bring him back!" 

Her single step was taken as a hostile gesture. Something collided with her head from behind and sent her hurtling towards the floor. Bronson disappeared out of the door with the baby. She saw the three new guards moving around her, batons readied. Though dazed, she had the vague sensation something warm was running down her face. She pushed herself up from the floor and onto her knees. Dizziness overtook her as she looked towards the door. Why had Bronson taken the baby? Was he okay? Were they going to bring him back? 

A blunt force knocked her to the ground again. She curled her knees into her chest, trying to protect herself as more blows landed. Her chest tenderized. Her arms and legs screamed in pain. She tried to curl herself in tighter. As long as she didn't fight them, she knew they'd stop. She closed her eyes and drifted. 

_"Sydney? Where are you? Are you alright?" _

"At what used to be SD-6. I can hardly believe it. I couldn't even sleep last night. I thought I'd wake up and it'd all be a dream. I've been here for almost an hour." 

Silence. 

"Eric, you still there?" 

"I'm still here. I just--" 

"You sound odd. Where are you?" 

"At...Vaughn's apartment." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Syd, I...I don't know how to say this." 

"What's wrong? Is Vaughn okay?" 

"He....I--" 

"Never mind, Eric, I'll come there." 

"No, Syd! Don't come--" 

She ended the call and headed out of the building. She couldn't get into her car fast enough. Her cellphone started to ring as she was exiting the parking garage. She knew it was Weiss, and she didn't answer it. The phone rang twice more before she reached Vaughn's apartment. 

She parked her car on the side of the street and scrambled out of her car. The drive was lined with emergency vehicles and a flood of people stood on the lawn. She pressed through to the front of the crowd. 

"No one beyond this point," a police officer told her firmly. 

She flipped opened her CIA badge without a word. He scrutinized it momentarily and nodded to her. She moved onto the front step. 

"Sydney?" 

"Dad!" 

Jack gave her a worried frown. "What are you doing here?" 

"Weiss called me." 

Jack glanced inside. "He called you? You shouldn't be here." 

"What is going on? Why are all these people here?" 

Weiss appeared in the doorway. He looked at her. His face was emotionless but his eyes were glassy. "Sydney, I told you not to come." 

"Where is Vaughn?" she demanded. "I want to see him." She tried to look at them but both refused to make eye contact with her. 

"Dad?" Her chin quivered. "Please." 

Her father's face hardened. "Vaughn's dead, Sydney." 

She blinked. That wasn't true. It couldn't be true. "But I saw him yesterday. He was fine!" 

Weiss swallowed. "We think that sometime last night, someone got into his apartment. We don't know why yet..." 

"No!" She started towards the doorway. They were lying. They had to be lying. 

Weiss moved into her way as Jack grabbed her arm. 

She had to find Vaughn and ask him why they were playing this cruel trick. "Where is he?" she cried. "I want to see him." 

Weiss shook his head. "No, Syd. You can't go in there." He sighed and continued more softly. "You don't want to go in there." 

She stared at them both with glassy eyes. "I have to see him!" If he was really dead, why would they try to stop her? 

"Sydney, let's go back to your apartment," Jack said, carefully. He held her firmly. 

"No, I'm not leaving." Her eyes flew to the door when it opened. A man in a coroner's jacket began wheeling out a gurney carrying a black body bag. They headed towards a coroner's van in the driveway. 

She shook her head. "Stop!" she ordered. They didn't acknowledge her. She tried to pull away from her father's grasp. "Let go of me. They can't take him." 

"Sydney, please." 

She broke one arm free. "No, bring him back! Tell them to bring him back!" But two more hands gripped onto keeping her from following the gurney. Her vision started to blur and she realized tears were filling her eyes and flowing down her cheeks. 

She turned and looked her father in the eye. "Please!" she begged. "Bring him back." 

Jack stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and screamed. 

She was ripped from the solace of her father's arms by a horrible stinging pain in her belly. Her arms and legs were throbbing. Her head pounded. She was afraid to move, for fear she might make it worse. She took a breath but moaned as her lungs expanding sent waves of pain through her rib cage. She considered never moving or breathing ever again. 

There was sound of footsteps beside her. She curled herself in slightly. 

She didn't want to open her eyes. 

_Nine Days Earlier _  
For the first time, she looked like a prisoner. 

Bronson had told him she'd be different, but Philippe hadn't quite counted on this different. He was used to the woman who always looked like she'd attack them if they turned their backs on her. But as he stepped into the room, Sydney Bristow was a small figure in a corner with a baby in her arms, rocking herself. 

Bronson entered and walked right over to her. He lifted the child from her arms and handed the boy to Philippe. Philippe was almost surprised that Sydney didn't even protest. The baby gripped onto him, as if he actually remembered. 

Sydney didn't look up at them. She didn't let out an annoyed sigh. Bronson lifted her arms with ease, placing the cuffs on her wrists. He gave a tug that should have been painful to her bruised wrists. She didn't wince, just stood. She kept her eyes downcast as she was led from the room. 

Philippe followed with the baby. The child was tense in his arms, wide eyes trying to keep Sydney in view. They rounded corners and rode an elevator. Sydney's eyes never seemed to take note of where she was being taken or who she was with. She didn't move unless pulled along, but she didn't resist. 

Finally, Bronson reached a room on a sublevel. He opened the door and Sydney was pushed inside. The room was empty as far as Philippe could tell. Bronson directed Sydney sit down in the middle of the rooom. Then, he turned and walked out, locking the door securely with Sydney inside. 

Philippe didn't have time to question what they were doing. Bronson lifted his radio. "She's in," he announced. 

"Copy that," a voice on his radio cackled back. 

The baby shifted in Philippe's arms, upset that he could no longer see Sydney. Philippe tried to hold him closer as if to comfort, but the child cried out. 

Bronson actually turned to look at him. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded. 

Philippe looked confused. "What?" 

"You don't know?" Bronson questioned, surprised. "Look at him," he ordered. 

Philippe cautiously looked at the little boy. First thing he noted was how badly the child needed a haircut. Platinum blond hair combed by fingers to try and keep it out of his eyes, but it truly needed trimming. Then, he saw blue eyes. Wide, perceptive. The child took in everything that happened in his world and tried to make sense of it. 

Phillippe knelt down, placing the boy on the floor, where he stood carefully. Philippe examined the child's arms, but they were hardly injured. He examined the child's shirt, too large on him, but it was better than the clothes the baby had been growing out of. He carefully pressed on the child's stomach, and after he'd tried several spots the boy flinched. He had sore spots that were causing him pain. Phillippe picked the boy up again more gently. 

"How long today?" he asked Bronson as they headed back for the elevator. 

Bronson shrugged. "I don't know." 

"So, they did something to him?" Philippe realized. 

Bronson nodded. 

"To make her like she is now." 

Bronson nodded again. "I could hardly believe it either when I first saw her." 

Philippe got off the elevator two floors down, but Bronson didn't. Philippe put the child down in the nice and bright hallway and held his hand, letting him walk beside him. He wished he could take the baby outside. That was all his kids had ever wanted to do at this age. Play outside. He looked down at this boy who was just happy to be allowed to wander a brightly lit hallway. To see his reflection in glass windows would make him giggle. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't get to go outside. He didn't miss it. 

Philippe ate his lunch with the child in his lap. They shared a sandwich that the boy washed down with a bottle. They went on another long walk, until the baby tired of walking the hallways. He didn't stop and sit down, or let out plaintive noises. His steps got slower, but Philippe realized the child wasn't going to ask to be carried. He would walk until he fell asleep, but he wouldn't complain. He knew he wasn't allowed to complain. 

Philippe lifted him gently and let the boy rest his head on his shoulder. The child was asleep in his arms before he made it back to the cell. He let the baby rest on the cot, but he didn't leave him. Bronson offered to relieve him for a couple of hours, but Philippe wasn't interested. He wondered the last time this baby had fallen asleep and woken up with the same person still around. Philippe knew they dragged Sydney away from him at random. She'd been gone over five hours now. He wondered if she was still in that room. 

Philippe wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he dozed a little while waiting for the baby to awaken. He knew he was up the second the child stirred. He awakened with a whimper about to cry, then opened his eyes. Philippe smiled at him. "I'm still here." He pulled the child back into his arms. The baby had slept for nearly three solid hours. "You must be hungry." 

The child looked at him hopefully. Philippe took him from the cell and got him another bottle that the child eagerly drank. They went for another walk around the hallways. They were ignored by anyone who passed them. Philippe got frowns when he brought the child with him to the lounge and shared his dinner. 

He took the baby for walk out of the sublevels. He put him next to a window and let him look out. By the window, Philippe counted numbers and went over the ABC's several times. The child paid attention. 

The sun went down and there was nothing to see out the window. Philippe dropped by a lab and got some rubber gloves. He blew air into them making a couple, five fingered balloons for the child to play with. The boy loved kicking and tossing those around. Philippe watched to take careful note of when the child's eyes started to blink tiredly. Philippe picked him up and headed back for the cell. The boy was almost asleep when they arrived. 

"Where've you been?" Harris wanted to know. He was the child's other day guard. 

"What's wrong?" Philippe questioned. 

Harris sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. Just, you're relieved." 

Philippe frowned slightly. "Overnight shift?" 

Harris nodded. "Yeah, we have a lot of these now, with them running so many tests all the time." 

"I'll stay," Philippe decided, stepping into the cell. 

"No you won't. I'm already assigned to do it." Harris reached for the child. "So, go." 

"Give me a minute, he's almost asleep," Philippe responded. 

Harris gripped onto the baby and pulled him from Philippe's arms. 

Philippe felt the child, startle and grasp for his shirt, not wanting to leave him. Harris held the baby in extended arms, not cuddling him at all. The baby coughed out the start of a wail, looking at Philippe with wide pleading eyes. 

Philippe headed for the door, not wanting to hear the child cry and hoping he'd stop the sooner he left. Just before he stepped into the hallway, he heard Harris shout harshly, "That's enough! I don't wanna hear it!" 

The child's cries stifled to whimpers. 

Philippe blinked, wondering how long until his next shift. He discovered it wasn't for another sixteen hours. Sixteen hours that couldn't pass soon enough. 

Harris was in a chair by the cell with the door opened, flipping through a tattered book when Philippe returned. He didn't even acknowledge him, when Philippe stepped inside. Philippe would have thought the cell was empty, but since Harris was right outside he knew the baby had to be in there somewhere. He found the child beneath the cot, face down. He was in a tense little ball and flinched when Philippe tried to touch him. Philippe sat back and looked around the room. Two bottles sat by the wall, both nearly full. 

"You didn't feed him?" Philippe asked, incredulously. 

"He wouldn't eat," Harris answered with a shrug. "He's all yours." Harris stood and left the cell. 

Philippe sighed and looked at the bottles. The child had to be hungry. Philippe seated himself on the floor. He rubbed the baby's back gently and softly whispered to him that he was alright. The boy finally lifted his head to look. His face was red and tear-stained, but he hadn't been making a sound. He didn't dare to make a sound. Philippe gently pulled the child into his arms, wondering if he'd slept at all after being left with Harris. 

"Hungry?" he questioned. He offered a bottle to the child. The boy shoved it away, not allowing Philippe to put it near his mouth. The guard sighed, guessing he wouldn't be very hungry either. 

The boy looked towards the door and then back at Philippe hopefully. "We can go walk," Philippe said. He got up, ready for the child to be eager for a walk. The boy stopped at the doorway and looked up and down the hall, searching. 

Philippe sighed. "She'll be back," he told the child, who didn't look comforted. It had to be hard for him to never know when Sydney would leave or when she would return, or if. Philippe had called home just a few hours prior to make sure his family knew he had another shift and wouldn't be home. He didn't want them to have even a few hours of uncertainty. The baby hadn't seen Sydney in almost two days. So he was insecure and wondering. 

Philippe picked him up and carried him out of the cell. He had a feeling Harris hadn't taken him anywhere else and the child had nothing to do but miss Sydney as long as he was in that cell. He took the child into one of the labs. Immediately, the baby tensed in his arms, burying his face. "Hey, it's okay." 

Philippe put the baby down and he clung to his leg. Philippe took an empty basin and filled it with water. He picked up the child and showed him the basin, then dropped in a couple Styrofoam bowls and the caps to a few empty medicine bottles, all of which floated in the water. 

The baby stared at the objects with wide eyes. He reached towards the basin hesitantly, as if expecting to be told not to. Philippe grinned at him, encouragingly. The boy picked up one of the caps and put it back down. Then, he pushed it down with one hand so it sank. He let go and it popped back up to the top. He giggled and slapped the water, attempting to drown the other objects as well. Philippe realized this was going to be a messier activity than he'd expected and rolled up the boy's sleeves. 

The child didn't seem to actually tire of water play, and fussed a little when Philippe finally took the basin away and began to dry him off. They headed for the lounge. Philippe heated a bottle and the boy hungrily chugged it down along with half another bottle, and the bits of Philippe's chicken sandwich. 

Philippe was trying to decide what to do next as he was cleaning up from lunch. A crackle came across his radio, ordering him to return the child to the cell. Philippe responded that he was on his way. Though, he let the child walk on his own so it took him longer than it would have to actually return. 

Bronson was waiting. "Finally," he said exasperatedly. He picked up the baby and set him in the cell on the cot. 

Seconds later, the elevator doors opened and Sydney was dragged off and into the cell. Dragged because she didn't seem strong enough to walk. She wasn't fighting. Philippe watched from the doorway as she was deposited in the middle of the floor of her cell. She didn't move at first then sat up slowly. Her skin was unnaturally dark pink. Like she was covered in a horrible sunburn. 

Philippe wondered if she'd know that'd this was what was going to be done to her when she'd so willingly let Bronson escort her to the room. Heat endurance test. She looked around the room, with a disoriented, emotionless expression on her face. Until her eyes settled on the baby. She forced a smile onto her dry, cracking lips and crawled across the room. She didn't have the energy to hold him. She sat beside the cot and rested her head on it. She reached a hand and touched the child's face, touching it gently. He laid down on the cot, resting his head near hers. 

Philippe left, locking the cell securely. Sydney would get a day or two to recover enough for the next test. Then, he'd have another shift with the baby. He headed down the hallway. He was going to go home and see his own kids. 

_Four Days Earlier_   
It was foggy. Her vision. Her head. The room. 

And she was achy. Especially her ankle and her wrists. She forced herself to stretch and sit up anyway. She focused and realized she was back in her cell. She didn't recall being brought back. She ran her hand across her face, finding one of her cheeks was swollen and bruising. She hugged herself and looked around. She was alone in the room. They hadn't brought him back yet. Maybe it would be soon. Maybe she'd only been back in the room a moment. She tried to recall. 

She remembered him crying, and then, she felt a strange sinking feeling and it was dark. Somehow the deeper she sank, the quieter it was. She forced herself to try and think of anything besides the dark. There was a flash of an unfamiliar face, and then Anton's empty eyes. 

She got up, and splashed some water from the basin on her face. She paced the room, but her ankle throbbed. She finally just sat down in the corner of her room. She curled up and closed her eyes. Phantom cries played in her ears. She nodded off back to sleep, despite her cramped position. She was certain hours passed. 

Then, there were footsteps coming up the hallway. She watched the door, hoping. But it was just Bronson bringing her a meal. He set it down, but looked over at her in the corner seriously. 

She stared back. "Where is he?" she managed to ask, only just loudly for him to hear. 

Bronson gave her an uncomfortable look. He left without a word. 

She stared at the door long after he'd left. Just listening for more footsteps. None came. What if they weren't intending to bring him back to her? What if they couldn't? What if he was too badly hurt? They'd hardly ever tended to her wounds .Would they tend to his? Or was he just somewhere suffering? 

She looked at the meal, but her stomach didn't feel ready to accept any food. She buried her face against her knees. She just listened to her heartbeat. He could be dead. Maybe Anton was just thinking it'd be too traumatizing to her to kill him in front of her. But he was dead and they just weren't going to tell her. She brought her hands up to her face, trembling and finally broke down to cry again. 

The sound of the lock startled her and she looked to the door. This time it was an unfamiliar guard, but she had no interest in him, only who was in his arms. She stood up, slowly. The child was deposited on the floor and the guard left. 

He was in new clothes. A blue and black outfit. He looked around with wide eyes, and when he saw her lifted his arms. She moved towards him and picked him up gently, carrying him back to the cot. She pressed her head to his small forehead, but when she went to hug him, he squeaked softly. She sat him back in her lap and swallowed. She pulled back the sleeves on his shirt gently and slowly. There were hand print bruises in several places on both arms. She noticed a slightly red puncture wound on his left arm. She pulled back down the sleeves and lifted his shirt to look at his belly. 

She felt her eyes sting at the crisscrossing red cuts across his stomach. He looked down at his wounds and back up at her silently. She put his shirt back down and took a deep breath, turning him gently so his back faced her. She took a deep breath and lifted the shirt only half way. A mess of purple and red marks assaulted her eyes and she let the shirt fall. She just cuddled him to her gently and kissed the top of his forehead. She stroked his cheek lightly with one finger whispering apologies in his ear. 

She was thankful his back was to her. She didn't want him to see her tears. 

_Several Hours Earlier_   
His hands were ice cold. She realized her own hands probably weren't much warmer, but she rubbed his between hers. He looked up at her with curious eyes. He looked so confused. She shared his confusion. All this time and she was still practically clueless as to what was expected of her. What pleased them one day got her punished the next. Sometimes she wondered if it was for no other reason than to keep her off balance. 

The small boy nestled himself further into her arms. She had to look at his face to realize he was crying. It frightened her the way he cried now. With no noise, just small tears. He kept taking deep breaths, breathing hard. Anything to force back any sound at all. As if afraid if he truly let any thing out something bad would happen. She ran her hand through his hair, wishing she could honestly reassure him differently. 

Her ankle was nearly well enough to actually walk on again. She considered walking him to comfort him. But then there were footsteps in the hallway. She knew tensing would scare him but she couldn't stop herself. The door unlatched. The room filled with light. Two guards looked around the room and finally settled on her on the cot. 

"Come on," the first guard ordered. 

She hesitated, but turned to lay the baby on the cot. His arms clung around her neck tightly and his face contorted when she pulled him away. 

"No, bring him too," he added. 

She looked up at the guard with wide eyes. "There is no reason--" 

"We don't have time for this," the second guard grumbled, coming towards them. "Put him down." 

She let out a relieved sigh and lowered the baby onto the cot. He curled up face down. The first guard turned and snapped restraints onto her. He pushed her towards the doorway. Then, immediately turned and lifted the baby. 

"No!" Sydney protested. Ready to spring into action despite her restraints and her ankle. 

The guard turned the boy around, holding him around the waist with one hand and his hand on the child's neck. "You want to see him killed right here in front of you?!" 

She couldn't stop the tears. "Whatever I did--whatever you _want_ me to do!" 

The guard laughed. He moved towards her never moving his hand from the neck of his small hostage. 

She wanted to lunge at the guard and claw him apart with her bare hands. But to move an inch was to risk them hurting the baby. 

The second guard nodded. "Now, you'll behave." He headed down the hallway. She followed, not about to let the baby out of her sight. The maze of hallways that she normally tried so hard to memorize were of no interest to her. Only him. And where they were taking them. What reason could Anton have for this? A new room? A medical exam? 

But she saw them headed towards steel doors and stiffened. She tried to halt, but four guards peeled from their stations along the hall, grabbed her and held tight even as she twisted and contorted. She was half dragged, half carried into the room. They harshly strapped her down to a table. She looked around expecting Romanov to appear at any moment. 

Instead a man came out from an adjoining room and the guard handed the baby to him. She narrowed her eyes, not recognizing this blond man. He carried the child towards her. "Is there any last thing you'd like to say to him?" 

She swallowed. "What are you going to do to him?" 

"What you have made necessary." 

"He's just a baby! You can't hurt him." 

"Can't we?" 

They really were serious. "There's no reason!" 

"Isn't there?" The man turned to walk away. 

"What do you want? I'll do whatever you want!" 

The man paused, clutching the baby to him. "Yes, you will. Or this will happen again." He disappeared into the adjoining room. 

She wrestled with the restraints, needing them to give, needing to break free. "If you need to hurt someone, then hurt me." 

A wail. 

"Stop! Please. NO!" 

She looked towards the room, but she couldn't see. She just heard him crying. Terrified crying. Pain crying. She wrestled again with the straps, going to pull her own arms out of the socket to break free of the table. She'd kill them. She'd kill all of them. 

The cries increased in pitch and intensity. She cried out as well, the cries stinging in her ears, causing her pain. She'd do anything for them to stop. Anything they asked. Anything they wanted. She was crying. She was screaming. She'd do their stupid tests. She'd eat whatever they gave her. She'd tell them whatever she knew. She wouldn't fight them. If they would just make this stop. 

One of the steel doors opened and she saw Anton approach slowly. He walked right up beside the table and looked down at her. She choked back a sob and looked him in the eye. His eyes were empty. No concern. No delight. No anger. No satisfaction. Just empty. 

"Why?" she cried. What could she possibly have done that they thought warranted this punishment? 

Anton stepped back and turned his head, for a moment listening to the baby's cries. Then, he turned and walked briskly towards the door. He stopped, just before exiting and looked back at his prisoner strapped to the table. She had shut her eyes and was quaking with silent sobs. 

He exited the room and let the door slam. He headed down the hallway away from the room until he ceased being able to hear her cries or the child's. He stood there with his arms crossed and just stared at his watch. He watched the second hand go around the face maybe a dozen times. Then, he walked back in the side door, right into the room where Damien had been with the baby. It was quiet in there. He didn't even see Damien. A guard was holding the child. The baby was limp in his arms. 

"Get him taken care of," Anton ordered. The guard left the room immediately. "And where's Damien?" 

Another guard nodded towards the other room. 

Anton opened the door to where he'd left Sydney. Damien was standing beside the table his hand raised as though he was about to hit her. But he turned when Anton entered. 

"What are you doing?" Anton questioned. "The assignment was the baby." 

Damien gave him a sideways smile and looked down at Sydney. "Yes. It was." 

Anton looked at Sydney. The side of her face was reddened as if he'd already hit her once. "Your money is in my office," he said, pointedly. 

Damien nodded once and exited the room. 

Anton turned back towards Sydney. She wasn't crying any longer. She wasn't struggling. Her eyes were only half open. He moved and began to undo the straps around her ankles. Then, he moved to the straps on her wrists. As he finished with the straps, she actually opened her eyes wide enough to look at him. There was no anger behind them. Not even a fearful or pleading look. The only way to describe the expression on her face would be defeated. 

Then, she looked away from him and just curled up on the table. 

He knew before she would have leapt off the table and tried to fight him. But she had no desire to do that now. The fury was gone. Just as he'd wanted it. He'd won. 

He gestured to the guards standing by the door. "Take her back to her cell." He turned and briskly exited the room. 

He stopped just around the corner. His stomach was churning. 

_One Day Earlier_   
It was when he looked her in the eyes that he knew they had no control of her. 

She'd follow the directions she was given. Move immediately, often without question. Everyone else thought it was an improvement. It wasn't. It was just her manipulating them. Getting them to relax around her. Off their guard. Because every once in a while he could see the vengeful look in her eyes. For all that they'd done. For hurting her. For holding her captive. For holding the baby captive. 

When he looked her in the eyes, he knew was she was plotting his death. All of their deaths. And they weren't truly going to have any control of her until that changed. Anton turned over the progress reports of their latest tests on her. Nothing they did to her seemed to truly faze her. She just took it. Absorbed it. And added it to the fury behind her brown eyes. 

Anton sent word to the facility in Siberia that he needed a temporary employee. The man that arrived wasn't anything like he expected. He was perhaps twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old. His hair was blond; his copper brown eyes gleamed. 

He'd needed someone from another facility. Someone who hadn't spent three months in observance of the baby. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to complete the task he was about to order. 

"The child is perhaps a year old." Anton's voice was tight in his throat as he went on to describe what he wanted done. 

But the man in front of him hardly blinked. 

When finished, the two men stood up and shook hands. 

"You'll get your money when it's done," Anton informed him. 

Damien nodded and headed out of the room. 

_Five Days Earlier_   
She couldn't stop shaking. 

She didn't dare try to stand. She pushed herself away from the floor, trying to lay against the nearest wall for support. She couldn't focus on the room. Everything was blurry. She couldn't breathe properly because of the way she felt her lungs trembling inside of her. She was thankful her stomach was empty as she was certain she would have emptied its contents onto the floor beside her if it wasn't. She brought her hands to her face but they were shaking the worst. She laid herself back on the floor. 

She must have had a session with Romanov. They were the only thing that left her feeling like this. She shut her eyes. She couldn't remember any session. It hurt to think. Her brain felt like it was quaking inside her head. She could picture Romanov's face, looking angry, looking calm. His mouth moving. But she couldn't recall any words or any sound at all. 

Waves of heat and cold rushed through her. She opened her eyes and let the room spin around her. Dimly, she realized whatever they were doing to her, they weren't finished yet. This wasn't her cell. They had just left her here to rest up until they thought she was strong enough for them to continue. She winced as she tried to sit up again. 

She hated this. She hated them. She hated herself. She hated being here. 

It wasn't just about the pain, or how long it had been since she'd seen sunlight, or felt rain, or fallen asleep without being terrified of what they might do to her while she was unconscious. She wanted her father. She foolishly wanted Vaughn. He was dead. She wasn't going to see him ever again. She probably wasn't going to see her father ever again. Sometimes she was quiet when they came for her, good and obedient. Other time she's she'd shout, scream, and throw punches at them. They'd retaliate forcefully, overreact really, and beat her to the ground. They'd hit her until she stopped fighting and for several minutes after. They liked for her to beg. If she screamed for mercy, they would give it. She knew that, but still, she'd hold out as long as she could. She'd rub sore ribs and bruised knuckles down with cold water trying to ease the pain. 

It bothered her most that they'd hit her in front of the baby. He would get so frightened, as if he thought they'd kill her. It wasn't a foolish worry. He'd cry out or sometimes he'd just freeze. As soon as they left her alone, she would crawl across the cell and over to him, try and pull him into her arms or touch in him any way that'd make him feel safe. He was the hardest thing about this. The way he was treated. The way he was cheated out of life because of her. What trouble she'd caused him. He deserved so much more. Parents that'd love him and keep him safe all the time. 

He was always on her mind. Her first thought. Always. Was he eating enough? Sleeping enough? With being afraid so much of the time, how was he being affect? Would it impact the rest of his life? He'd impacted her life so severely. 

Without Vaughn or her father or any connection to her life, she could have died. She could have stopped fighting. She could have hoped they'd kill her, that they'd shoot her during an escape, stop her heart during an electrocution, starve her, beat her to death. She wouldn't have cared. Hypothermia, heat exhaustion, any kind of death was preferable to this life, to this non-life that was the existence she'd endured for weeks now, she realized. This could be the end. And if it weren't for one small boy, she'd have been content to let it be. 

_Review please! I need the encouragement._

Review Replies:   
Thanks Landi104 and RosieW.   
Lily: Good question. ;)


	10. In the fires of pain

_A/N: Special thanks to Chim for the beta. And no, I honestly don't know if this takes me off hiatus. I just know that yesterday I got this very nice review here from phi4858 and suddenly I knew how to finish this part. 18 pages of which has been written since last year. Anyway, it all came together and now here it is. I think there's one part left. I haven't started that part yet. But, deep breath. Here is part 8. I'm so sorry if I'm out of practice at this fic. And again, I warn, there are disturbing events, though not as bad as last chapter I don't think. Thanks everyone for the reviews! _

And anyone who's still out there. Thanks!

_**Part 8: In the fires of pain…**_

_Three Hours Earlier_

She heard footsteps approaching and she closed her eyes. O'Reilly had always done that. She shivered slightly at the thought of her former cellmate.

It was always best to feign sleep when they came. Otherwise they entered the room feeling the need to show force. They were almost always calmer when they found her sleeping. They liked to move over to the bed as quietly as possible, hoping to truly startle her when they dragged her from it.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing Anton again, so for a moment she was almost pleased that they didn't take the route that would take them to the familiar torture room with the double doors. Instead, it was down several floors in the elevator and behind a single stone door. She swallowed, realizing this wasn't better.

Dr. Romanov stood in the room. He gestured towards his chair that she was immediately shackled to, including straps to hold her neck and forehead in place. He waved them away and swabbed the crook of her elbow before giving her a quick injection.

He stepped back and watched her. She didn't know what he was expecting. She didn't feel any different.

"Do you remember where we left off?" Romanov questioned.

She gave him a defiant look. "You were rambling off some Syndicate propaganda. Didn't seem all that important."

Dr. Romanov didn't look annoyed or displeased in any way. He silently began placing electrodes on her head, connecting the wires gently, as if he were calmly putting together a puzzle. "If there is nothing you recall, I will have to start the entire process over," he stated upon finishing.

"What a shame," she responded.

He shook his head, forcing an object into her mouth and calmly flipping the switch of a machine at his side.

An electric current charged through her as her entire body convulsed against the chair. She was trapped inside herself, unable to do anything to control the movements from her own limbs. She wanted to scream but was denied even the ability to do that.

As soon as her body ceased seizing, he moved just in front of her face again. "You will tell me what you've learned here. Now." He yanked the rubber piece from her mouth.

Quivering, she could barely focus her eyes to look at him. Her teeth knocked into each other; her tongue felt clumsy and oversized in her mouth. But Romanov's hand lingered near the switch of the machine, daring her not to answer him.

"Followers of Rambaldi..." She inhaled and exhaled heavily every few words. "...seek destruction. Redemption in blood...Death...to the order."

Satisfied, he brought his hand back from the machine. "Again."

She turned her head to look at him, trying to control her breathing. "It won't matter if I get this right, will it?" She swallowed pointlessly. Her mouth was dry. She let her eyes lose focus again as tears came. "You'll kill me anyway...eventually. You aren't going to ever let me leave here."

Romanov watched her. "Those are not my decisions. I can only report when I feel you are ready to move on from the very strict existence you have now."

"Move on," she stated, emotionlessly, her eyes fluttering open and closed. After all this, she doubted moving on could mean anything but death.

Romanov flipped through some paperwork beside him. "There is room for many in the Syndicate, especially ones like you, with as strong importance in the Rambaldi circles."

She held her eyes open and tried to catch his face. "You want...me...to be a symbol?"

He adjusted the settings on the machine. "Enough questions."

She shook her head. "You think if you get me working for you, it will draw Rambaldi followers to your side." She almost laughed then fixed furious brown eyes on him. "I will never work for--" Her words ended in a shriek as her body convulsed again.

_"How is she?"_

_Sydney's eyes opened and she focused her vision on her nearly closed bedroom door. She could hear Francie sigh. "I still can't get her to eat anything. I think she's finally sleeping now."_

_"I can't believe that this is happening to her again," Will responded. "First, Danny, now Vaughn."_

_Francie shook her head. "The way she told me, they'd never even dated."_

_"No, they didn't, but...he was really important to her." _

_"Then I hope they get the guy that killed him," Francie said, exasperatedly._

_Will's voice sunk to an even lower whisper. "The CIA...they haven't really been able to find any leads."_

_Sydney held her breath, trying to listen more closely._

_"How is that possible?" Francie questioned. _

_"Didn't make any more sense to Sydney, though I don't see how resigning was supposed to help," Will answered._

_"She did what she needed to do. And she's not in any state to be going working right now, Will. If you were here more, you'd see that!"_

_Sydney winced, not wanting her friends to fight about her._

_"I do see it!" Will countered, loudly. "And I just can't stand to be here with her like this. I can't do anything for her here. She won't talk to me, she won't talk to you. She won't talk to anyone. At least there, I feel like I'm doing something to help."_

_"I wish there was more I could do," Francie admitted._

_There was silence and Sydney realized they'd moved away from her door to go talk elsewhere. She sat up in her bed, feeling dizzy. She weakly stood up, but sunk back into a sitting position. She rested her face in her hands, trying to work up the energy to move again. She reached over and grabbed a small calendar off the table beside her bed. Francie marked off the days. She knew it was suppose to motivate her. _

_It had been a month. A month since that horrible day when she had watched them wheel away Vaughn in a body bag. She had gone to the CIA every day for the first two weeks. There'd been questioning and briefings. There had been raids and suspects. There'd been mysteries. But there had been no answers._

_She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a tattered but thick folder. She flipped through the pages. Tracking reports. Banking information. Flight manifests. Vaughn had been running a private investigation. Something he hadn't told her or anyone else about. It was the only lead she had on why anyone could have possibly wanted him dead. She looked at the pieces of information he'd collected. Nothing looked enough to be killed over. What she had were the pieces of a search. But he hadn't found anything. Or if he had, it wasn't in this folder._

_Sydney took a deep breath and stood up. She changed her clothes and brushed her hair. She opened her closet, pulled out a suitcase, packed it full and placed the folder inside. She could hear Francie and Will in the kitchen. She slipped out of the house through a side door into the cool night air. It'd be hours before Francie and Will checked on her again. She couldn't have them trying to talk her out of this. Someone had to have answers. She'd come back when she found them._

Romanov turned to the guards. "Take her. I won't be ready for her again for about an hour."

_Two Weeks Earlier_

She lifted her head slightly slowly and blinked her eyes open.

She looked around her and realized she was in her cell. She was hunched in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. She felt exhausted. Her vision was obscured by strands of her hair. Wet hair. Soaking wet. She was wet. And cold. And shivering. She ran a hand up and down her arm futilely for warmth. Her clothes, only slightly damp, bunched on her uncomfortably. Her skin was raw, in spite of it. Reddened. Irritated by friction. She realized she smelled of soap. She looked over her hands carefully, realizing there was no dirt under her finger nails, or grayish tint to her skin.

She'd had a bath. She blinked, taking a calming breath. She had no idea why she didn't remember it. It wasn't a comfortable experience to be scrubbed down by guards but it had never caused her enough pain to black out. She got up slowly. Her eyes suddenly focused on the baby, lying on the floor beside the door.

She hobbled across the room and touched him carefully. He was limp but warm to the touch. She pulled him into her arms slowly. His pulse and breathing were slow but even. Still, after the scare he'd given her, she wanted him to look her in the eye so she'd know he was alright. She tapped his shoulder and the bottoms of his feet. He didn't flinch, didn't moan, and didn't resituate himself. She frowned and shook him a little, tapped him a little harder. He didn't move. She moved over to the cot and looked him over. He smelled of soap. But his skin didn't look irritated. There was a dappling of bruises on his arms and one kneecap, but no bleeding cuts. No bumps or bruises on his head or neck.

She rocked him in her arms and whispered in his ear. "Wake up, please."

Tears wet her face as she slowly stroked his soft cheek with one finger. She stayed in that position, just watching him breathe. Fearing that if she looked away, he would stop. She called his name every so often. His nicknames. She even sang songs. He didn't respond to anything.

The door opened. Bronson stepped inside and he had a bottle in hand. He stopped when he saw the child in her arms. He turned to leave without leaving the bottle. She stood up, her legs aching as she unbent them so quickly to rise. "Wait, please."

He paused. He gave her an aggravated look.

She hesitated but swallowed and asked. "How long has he been like this?"

Bronson shrugged. "Few hours."

"But you expected him to be awake by now," she said, eyeing the bottle in his hand.

Bronson glanced at the bottle but said nothing.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why did they do this to him?"

"For the same reason as last time. They warned you."

She blinked. Her head hurt. "Last time?" They'd done this before? Why didn't she remember that? "Warned me about what?"

"You know," Bronson answered, uninterestedly.

"Well, how long before they wake him up?" she demanded.

Bronson quirked an eyebrow at her. "He'll wake up on his own," he said in a tone that obviously meant she was supposed to know that too.

She'd sat with him for ages already. She'd found him like this. How long had he been this way before she'd...woken up? She sighed. "What did I do?"

Bronson crossed the room quickly. He reached a hand towards her and she forced herself not to flinch. He grabbed her chin and turned her head upwards to look at him. He looked at her eyes as if looking for a sign of a concussion or drugs. He frowned slightly and let her go. He turned towards the door.

"No, wait." She turned her head quickly to look at him, and immediately felt dizzy. She resituated the baby and rubbed her head with one hand.

"Just tell me if it's normal for him to be out this long," she demanded.

Bronson put the bottle down by the wall, then exited the room without a word.

She sat down on the cot slowly, hugging the baby to her and rocking slightly. She couldn't remember what she'd done. She couldn't remember upsetting them. She buried her face in the top of his head, breathing in his hair. Even as she knew it shouldn't surprise her, she hated knowing her memory was unreliable. She feared finding out what she might have forgotten. Feared that she might be missing something important. A clue to tell her how long she'd been here. Something that might have helped her plan an escape. It made her feel more helpless than anything else. In spite of all that had happened, she wasn't used to being helpless. Even when Vaughn had…. She swallowed. She at least hadn't had to i_feel/i_ helpless.

_"Don't move!"_

"_Sydney," Sloane responded, far more congenially than Sydney had expected for a man with a knife to his carotid artery. "When my guards informed me that there'd seemed to have been a momentary blip in the security feed, I told them to ignore it. I knew it was you." _

_She moved around in front of him slowly. "I have been searching for you for almost eight months." He sat in his desk chair, dressed in his pajamas. He looked so calm and genuinely happy to see her. His smile disgusted her. "Before you die, I want you to tell me the reason." She placed the blade deeper against his neck. "Was it revenge? You just had to have the last word?"_

_Sloane looked her directly in the eye. "Sydney, you look upset. What are you talking about?"_

"_Don't pretend you don't remember! The day after the CIA took down SD-6, you had a CIA agent murdered in his apartment."_

"_Sydney, I assure you, I did not."_

_Her blade drew blood. "Don't lie to me. Agent Michael Vaughn."_

"_I am not lying," he managed to choke out. "But if you are so certain that I am responsible, then do what you must."_

_She stared. He had admitted to killing Danny so easily. Why wouldn't he admit to killing Vaughn? She took a deep breath, pulled her knife away, moving to stand just in front of him. "You really didn't order it, did you?"_

"_I did not."_

"_Do you know who did?"_

"_No." Sloane sat forward. "Have you no clues as to who in fact did?"_

_She lowered her weapon and sunk into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "What do you care?"_

"_I've known you your whole life. This seems important to you."_

_She looked up at him and pulled folded documents from her back pocket. Copies of documents that had been in Vaughn's possession. His private investigation. She placed them on the desk. Sloane looked them over and then looked at her._

"_I can give you the locations of at least three of the people on this list. Perhaps one of them has the answers you're looking for."_

_She waited as he printed the information for her from his computer. Then she rose to leave._

"_I'll give Emily your regards. If you ever require my assistance again--"_

"_I won't."_

Sydney felt the baby's arm move. She looked down to see him staring up at her. He blinked drowsily and started to fuss. She stroked his hair gently. "You're okay. It's okay." She hugged him to her and grabbed the bottle Bronson had left behind. She started to feed him.

_Four hours earlier_

Hands upon her startled her from sleep and snatched her from her bed. She was upright a moment then they released her. The sudden lack of support caused her to collapse to the floor. An unfamiliar guard was looking down at her with impatient green eyes. "Get up."

She pushed herself onto her knees, but she was unsure her ankle could truly hold any pressure if she tried to just stand up. A meaty hand slapped her face. "Get up!"

She brought her good leg up and tried not to put any pressure on the other. She took a deep breath and brought herself to a standing position.

The impatient guard looked mildly impressed. "Into the hall," he ordered.

She gritted her teeth and took a careful step. It was two steps before she came down with full pressure on her ankle. Her entire leg rebelled and refused to hold any weight. She groaned and sank to the floor.

The impatient guard look satisfied. "Never mind. Stay there." He stepped back and the door opened again. Anton entered. He looked down at her. She hadn't seen him in days. She had the feeling he'd been away from the compound.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned.

She didn't answer, figuring the question was rhetorical. He crossed the room, yanked her head back by her hair and looked down at her.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated.

"Just great," she responded.

He dropped his grip of her hair and she looked down. "I have news," he said, kneeling beside her. "You have been deemed well enough for us to get back to work."

Deemed by whom? When? No one had even examined her recently. She wondered if her leg didn't require at least some x-rays before anyone should be determining anything.

He stood up straight again and prodded at her ankle with the tip of his shoe.

She flinched.

"Get up," he said.

She gritted her teeth, fighting against her throbbing leg and managed to make it to standing again.

Anton stared past her to the boy standing beside the cot. "Bring him here."

"Why?" she questioned.

Anton moved to look her in the eye. "I thought we just completed weeks of recovery so you could learn that you do what I tell you because there are consequences for defiance. Now, bring him here."

She swallowed. "No."

Anton sighed. He didn't even have to apply any force into the kick he sent to her ankle. She dropped to the floor and walked past her and snatched up the baby. The child went rigid in his arms but remained silent. Anton handed the baby to the guards like he was a doll rather than a child.

"Do it," he ordered.

She sat up on her knees and stared as a guard removed a syringe. "What is that?" she demanded.

Anton glanced at her. "And take her." He left the room.

The guard jammed the needle into the child's arm without any care and the boy started to cry.

"Stop it!" she ordered.

But the contents of the syringe were emptied into the baby. Guards grabbed her from behind and she could wrestle free before they dragged her from the room. "Let go of me! What was that? What did you do?"

Her questions were ignored. She was dragged through the maze of halls and into a dark room, and shoved up against a basin. The guards dropped her then and then seized her against just as quickly, tearing her clothes off of her. Her attempts to struggle only caused her pain. She was shoved backwards into the basin and she cried out again. The water was ice cold.

They began merciless scrubbing with less care than they might have used to wash a dog. Their hands were as cold as the water. And they wandered unnecessarily. She tried to slap them away from her and was immediately rewarded by being shoved beneath the water. She expected a dunking but they held her there until she fought her way to the surface shivering and sputtering. Only to be forced under again.

She didn't have the strength to fight her way back up. She had to hand it to Anton and his ability to turn anything into torture. She knocked her head on the bottom of the basin as the hands suddenly released her.

_Five Days Earlier_

She could stand.

He could stand.

She couldn't do much to support his weight but he would hold onto things as long as they were in the direction he wanted to go in. It was more than she could do. But as she watched him, she realized his legs were stronger than he was giving them credit for. When there was a gap between the furniture and the wall, he would sneak an unassisted step or two and close the gap.

She stood there watching him just make his way around the room, as he finally accepted that he was going to be upright like everyone else.

She was proud of him. Especially since she was reduced to crawling to get from one of side of the room to another, to keep the pressure from her ankle. She could stand in one spot, but she couldn't go anywhere.

He realized he'd gotten all the way to the other side of the room and looked back at her. He frowned.

"Come here," she encouraged from her seat in the middle of the floor.

He gave her a look, as if didn't she realize there was no furniture between the middle of the floor and where he stood.

"You can do it," she insisted. "Come here."

He sat down where he started and started to crawl towards her.

"No." She shook her head. "Come here."

He stood up again, uncertainly. He stood there a long time before inching taking one single step towards. Even he looked surprised that he didn't fall. He did another step. He was doing it. A third. He toppled.

He whined, plaintively.

"It's okay, she told him. "You're almost over here."

He got back to his knees and stood up on wobbly legs. He made it another two steps before collapsing just in front of her and crawling into her arms.

She hugged him tightly. "Good boy. You were walking. You were walking." She suddenly had the urge to cry.

It wasn't just that he was walking at a time when she couldn't. But there were so many times that she'd found herself wondering if he was developing normally. If it was truly possible that he would develop normally in this horrible place. He was barely a year old and he was walking. Right on schedule.

She kissed him.

He could walk.

_Two Weeks Earlier_

She knew with lack of food things began to shut down. She knew the horrible pain of being hungry. Worse was the lack of it. Knowing she'd have to dread food the next time it came, because her body would do everything in its power to reject it. That eating would be as great a torture as not being fed had been at first.

She didn't feel hungry. And when the door opened when she knew it wasn't time to tend to her ankle, she actually feared it might be food.

Instead, it was Bronson and the baby. The child was deposited on the floor just inside the door with all the care of dropping a box and then the guard left without a word. The boy took one look at her and burst into tears. He raised his arms, wanting her to come get him.

She fought the pain and sat up for him. She'd been practicing that. They had bandaged her ankle to help it heal, but there'd been no physical therapy or direction on what she should or shouldn't do to help it heal. So she'd exercised her good leg and flexed her arms and finally started sitting up for as long as she could. She wasn't going to let her muscles get out of practice.

The boy raised his arms higher and cried louder, frustrated that she didn't pick him up.

She took a deep breath and swung her legs to the floor, keeping the pressure on her good ankle. She hadn't tested standing yet. And the constant throbbing of her ankle just from resting on the floor didn't encourage the effort. She took a deep breath and pushed herself onto one foot.

She fell back on the cot immediately, tears coming to her eyes from the pain. She wouldn't be walking or running for awhile. She turned her head back towards the boy. "I'm sorry."

He flopped his arms but got onto his hands and knees and crawled towards her, fussing. He reached the cot and latched his hands onto the edge, pulling himself onto her knees, just tall enough to see her.

She smiled at him. "I've missed you." She took the time to give him a closer inspection. He was clean. And he looked well fed. There were faint dark circles beneath his eyes. He could have been sleeping better.

He silenced his cries and with some effort pulled himself onto his feet.

She widened her eyes. "Well, look at you." She managed a grin.

He giggled, proud of his new trick. He started to applaud himself, letting go of the cot and falling right down on his behind. She thought he would start to cry again, but he only frowned. He looked up at her and pulled himself back onto his knees again. He hesitated only a moment before standing again.

She gave him an approving smile and reached a hand through his hair. She waited only a moment before using one arm to pull him onto the cot beside her. He curled up on her chest. She rubbed circles into his back, thinking she might sleep for the first time in days.

_iEight Days Earlier/i_

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in her cell on her cot. Her ankle was bandaged but it still throbbed. Whatever the fluid going into her IV was, it wasn't to dull the pain.

She turned her head slowly to find Anton standing in the corner. He moved towards the bed and she felt her heart in her throat. He reached towards her broken ankle and touched it with the tip of his finger. She blinked hard.

"It'll be weeks before you'll be able to put any pressure on it," he said, matter-of-factly. "We should finally be able to get some work done in that time. Though if there are any problems by the time it starts to heal, don't think we wouldn't try this procedure again." His fingers danced up her leg, setting her nerves afire each time he touched her.

Her hands clenched into fists, but she remained silent watching him.

His hand came to rest on her stomach. "Improvement," he stated with a nod. "No talking back. Good."

She looked away.

His hand reached out to grab her chin and turn it back towards him. He held firmly so she couldn't look away again. "I brought this because I know of your concern for the baby."

His other hand slowly moved an object into view. A baby monitor. He set it on the table beside the cot and turned it on.

Sydney watched it carefully, listening. There was static. Shuffling. She swallowed, just listening. Then, she heard a light sound. A small sniffle, then a sneeze. Sydney closed her eyes in a silent thank you. She had never been so relieved to hear a sneeze.

Anton's eyes never left her. He turned the baby monitor off. "So, he's fine for now."

Sydney raised her eyes to meet Anton's slowly. "Wh-who's taking care of him?" she asked, surprised at how dry her own voice sounded.

"Whomever I can spare," Anton answered, simply.

Sydney looked away again. Was he eating? Was he warm? Who was holding him when he cried? Who was rocking him to sleep? She couldn't imagine the guards doing it. She certainly couldn't imagine Anton doing it.

Anton looked her, incredulously. "You couldn't care for him right now anyway. Not with your ankle."

"I want to see him."

Anton stared at her. "Well, we all want something."

Sydney swallowed and remained silent.

Anton sighed. "How much patience do you think I have?" He shook his head and reached for the baby monitor.

Sydney watched him, puzzled as he turned it back on. Then he turned and left the room. For a while she waited, expecting him to come back. But he didn't. She turned towards the monitor and listened. Sometimes she heard shuffling or static. Sometimes another sneeze or a cough.

She tried to relax. She dozed for awhile, but she was awake the instant the door opened. It wasn't Anton, just a guard. He didn't speak to her, simply began feeding her cold broth she had no say in whether she wanted to eat or not. Her stomach was rather queasy. When the bowl was empty, he turned and exited.

She stared up at the ceiling, watching the cobwebs dance in the corners. She wanted to crawl off her cot, but she knew if she did so it'd be unlikely she'd be able to get back on it. A cough reached her from the baby monitor.

She looked at it. The cough became a wail, then a full blown cry. Why? Why was he crying? What had they done?

She couldn't hear them doing anything. There were no other voices or sounds. Or if there were, his cries were drowning them out. She listened, trying to decipher his cry. It wasn't one of pain. Was he hungry or thirsty? Weren't they feeding him?

She stopped listening for something behind the cries. Stopped listening for someone to be something to him. She suddenly had the distinct feeling that he was alone. The cry was one of fear. And she could suddenly picture him, completely abandoned in a dark room somewhere unfamiliar. No idea if he was ever going to see her again. No idea if he was going to see ia_nyone/i_ ever again.

She needed to go to him. She needed to get to him. And her eyes roved towards the door always so solidly locked.

It wasn't.

Not this time. A crack of light came in the door. Just to mock her.

Her half-hearted attempt to sit up sent pain through her so sharply she fought not to just blackout.

Anton was heartless.

She turned her head towards the monitor again. He had to stop crying. He had to exhaust himself. Comfort himself. She prayed he would just go to sleep. Maybe when he woke up they would actually let her see him.

The cries got louder.

Tears rimmed her own eyes. She started to cry with him. For him. For herself. For her ankle. For being trapped in a room with the door opened and unlocked and not going to find him.

The cries continued. He was going to cry himself hoarse.

She could call for them. Call for Anton. Beg him. Beg them. She blinked hard. They'd enjoy that.

She covered her ears. But she could still hear him. She balled her hands into fists and brought them down on the sides of her cot in frustration.

She eyed the baby monitor darkly.

The cries continued to emanate from it.

She inhaled sharply and tossed a hand in its direction. She missed and groaned at the pain of the movement. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath and again reached out and punched the monitor.

It flew off the table, skidded across the floor and hit the wall, the batteries popped out and the room fell in silence instantly.

Until she started to laugh. A fit of strange giggles that erupted out of her and she couldn't stop. They increased intensity until her entire face crumpled.

She erupted again. Into uncontrolled sobs.

_Two Hours Earlier_

She was shoved into the chair, restraints strapping her legs to the feet and her wrists to the arms. She futilely twisted herself trying to see if there was going to be any way to get out of the chair. The door opened and the guards stepped back behind her.

She looked up to see Anton stepping into the room. "Where is he?" she demanded. "What did you do with him?"

Anton's response was a cuff to the side of her head. She stared at him with furious brown eyes, but fell silent.

"Sydney, these continued escape attempts are futile. I've warned you previously about this and you don't seem to be getting the picture. All you've done is put yourself in more danger. You i_and/i_ the baby."

"Where is he?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"You sound concerned. You should. Considering with your latest round of non-cooperation, we shouldn't ever allow you anywhere near him ever again. He distracts you and makes you all the more desperate to get out of here. Perhaps eliminating him from your life completely is really the answer I've been searching for."

Eliminating? They wouldn't... "You can't do that. Eliminating him, eliminates the only thing you have to hang over my head."

"Something must be done to keep you from any more escape attempts. And I think a low tech solution will have to do."

Anton motioned to the guards. Sydney stiffened, bracing herself for a beating. She felt the chair being moved and focused to see they moved her to just in front of the open door. The guard knelt and released the restraint on one of her legs. She moved it for a kick but the guard firmly held it in place against the doorjamb.

Sydney glanced at Anton suspiciously. What was this?

"No more running."

Sydney's eyes widened as Anton stepped back and gripped the metal door. She tried again to move her leg but the guard's grip on her foot was firm.

"No," she breathed.

Anton slammed the door.

The bones of her ankle crunched like snow beneath a boot.

Pure pain shot through her entire leg.

She inhaled so deeply she feared never being able to exhale again. Her mouth was held open by a soundless scream. Tears sprang from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her back stiffened against the chair and her entire body tensed involuntarily. Then, as her body relaxed again, a scream tore out of her throat.

Anton waited, as she forced herself quiet again, taking ragged breaths. Then, he nodded slightly. She felt her other leg be released from the chair. The guard lifted it towards the doorjamb and Anton pulled the door back to a fully open position.

Sydney gasped. "N-no. Ple-ease."

Anton watched her with a curious look in his brown eyes. "Why not?" he asked, carefully.

Sydney sniffled, her eyes starting to close.

One of the guard's slapped her and her eyes opened again.

"Why. Not?" Anton repeated.

Sydney took a deep breath and held it a moment. "No more running," she finally breathed.

Anton stepped away from the door and gave a nod.

The guards undid the rest of the restraints and she collapsed out of the chair to the cold floor.

_One Hour Earlier_

She blinked hard, her head pounding. She was thankful she was being held against the wall as she was too dizzy to stand on her own. She was not thankful to see Anton making his way up the hall.

"Search her!" Anton ordered. And they were on her. Their hands gripped her arms, forcing her to the wall, pinching, probing, down her neck, inside her mouth, down her arms, across cloth, across flesh..._hands...hands...hands... _How many guards were needed to do this?

She was frozen. She didn't even know how or why. But the tears blurred her vision and she couldn't move. She could hardly breathe and descended on weak legs to a pile on the floor. _Hands. Hands. _Another escape. Another chance at freedom that she had ruined. Somehow she she'd messed up and she was going to die here. _Hands! Hands! _Her skin was frozen in hands, cold and stiff, yet menacing. She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. A slight turn of her head was taken as hostile and rewarded with a slap. She recoiled, forcing herself completely docile.

She couldn't stand it to be there any longer. She felt herself falling, inside her head. She was losing her mind. Being swallowed by herself in little pieces each day. She'd be escorted to interrogations and not recall the hallways she'd walked to make the trip. She'd return from sessions her body reeling from pain and have no recollection of the cause, or the length of the session. The electrocution was eating her memory. She could have been there for years and not remember. The days ran together. The years.

She'd run her hands across rough skin, burns, cuts, pinholes. She'd wash away tears and blood and not be sure how they'd come. She'd sometimes find herself huddled in a corner, her entire body shaking, trembling mercilessly and remember nothing but a dark, gray haze. It terrified her and yet sometimes she hoped for the black hole. Sometimes she forced her mind down into it. It was at least her choice. There was no one else there, nothing else there, no screams, no fears. She'd rock herself wanting nothing more than to be held in gentle arms and told she was going to be all right.

She wasn't sure she would ever feel "all right" again. She was going to die alone, on a cold concrete floor a mess of bones and blood, screaming in pain. And then she was going to go into her black hole and never return. It should have upset her to think such things, but instead she focused on one comforting thought.

There was no pain there.

_Two Hours Earlier_

She wondered what he found so safe about being under the cot. She stopped trying to coax him out and just crawled underneath it and lay beside him. She patted his back gently. He began to blink ever so slowly. She decided to wait until he was actually asleep to move him from the only spot where he felt safe. She waited for his breathing to even out, staring at the wall for lack of anything else. Her eyes focused on the cracks and dust in the corner. She reached out and ran her hand along the crack, feeling a loose piece of concrete. It pulled right out of the wall and was roughly the size of the brick.

She left it, while she lifted the child and relocated him onto the cot. Then, she looked at it again, testing the heaviness of it in her hand. It was solid.

She heard footsteps coming up the hallway and she didn't have time to think before she gripped it in her hand and took up a stance by the door with her hand gripping the concrete tightly. A guard entered with her meal. Cold flavorless noodles. It was a meal she didn't regret she would never get to eat. She rammed her makeshift brick at the guard's head and he went down. She hit him once more and he was motionless. She checked him over and got his pass card, but he carried no weapons.

She lifted the baby gently and dashed into the hallway. She started down the hall cautiously, listening for sounds of possible patrols. But she reached the stairwell door without incident. She swiped the card, and hurried up the stairs. She wasn't sure how deep into the building she was. But after two flights of steps the stairwell ended and the pass card was refused at by the only security door at the top. She went back down a flight and entered the corridor quietly. She stopped around a corner as she saw patrols with their backs to her heading down the hallway. She attempted to go the opposite direction but her pass card was refused at the next security gate she'd come across.

She looked into the empty hallway and cautiously moved in. The guards patrolled in twos. But she was going to have to get a new pass card from them. They surely had more clearance than a meal guard.

She looked at the baby in her arms. His eyes wide and round. She couldn't fight two guards and hang onto him. She stepped back. The next time the men patrolled passed she moved out on to the floor. She moved into the closest room. It was a lab.

She searched it. Then she found an empty cupboard. She tried to set the baby down but the boy gripped his arms around her neck. He whimpered as she finally forced him to sit in the cupboard.

"I am coming back." She told him. "Just as soon as I can." She rubbed his back lovingly. "Be very quiet." She kissed his cheeked and stroked his head. Then, she stepped back and shut the cupboard.

Stealthily, she moved down the hallway. She positioned herself in a corner ahead of the patrol. She flattened herself to the wall and waited until they had just passed. Then she leapt at them, kicking one in the gut and delivering a punch to the other's head. They both went down. She directed a kick to the first man's head and they were out. She searched them both for a pass cards and took a gun from one of the men.

She headed back towards the lab where she'd left the baby. She rounded the corner and ran right into a patrol officer, standing there alone. She aimed her gun forward but the patroller kicked it from her hand. She made a sweeping kick back at him and advanced enough to toss a few sound punches, winning the fight.

Suddenly, her entire body rattled with an electric current. She collapsed as the baton crackled across bare skin.

The first patroller leapt up and went to alert others.

Her body convulsed again with another charge. Then the guard used the baton to deliver blows to her ribcage. She curled up only just before she felt her brain rattling in her skull. The world turned brown.

Then black.

_Ten Days Earlier_

She ran her hand across the child's back once more. His breathing was even. He was finally asleep. She patted him lightly once more then sunk to a seat beside the cot. She had no idea what this was doing to him, raising him here. She looked at his small form. He was underweight. She looked over at the half empty bottle on the floor. He'd pushed it away, refusing to eat anymore. She wasn't sure if he truly wasn't hungry anymore, or if something else was bothering him. They gave her bottles for him regularly enough. Her own empty stomach growled. She picked up the bottle, licking her lips lightly.

She startled, almost dropping it as the door to her cell opened. The bright lights of the hall shined in on the dim room. Two guards trudged over to her while one waited at the door. They pulled her to her feet and marched her out of the room. It was a familiar route they took a room with silver double doors.

Anton was waiting. He looked her in the eye. "The first location you gave turned out to be acceptable. I'm going to ask you for another location. You give it to me, and we're done for the day. You go back to your cell and eat a hot meal for a change."

She stared at him silently, her stomach feeling even emptier than it had moments before. It was a fair and tempting offer, except for the fact that she didn't have another location to give him. She could lie, but it would only take him moments to run through the tracking reports and find that no activity was in whatever location she came up with randomly out of her head. She didn't even want to imagine what punishment he could come up with for that.

Anton shifted impatiently. "That is, if you tell me now."

She swallowed. "I can't give you another location."

Anton nodded to the guards. She didn't tense fast enough. They forced her face down to the table in the middle of the room and secured the straps. A familiar bald man entered, and he began filling a syringe.

She turned her head as best she could towards Anton. "The location I gave you was the only one I knew."

"That seems doubtful. O'Reilly tried that same lie on us several times at the beginning."

Before she could speak again her head was being held still and an injection was forced into her neck. She winced, more in anticipation of the feeling she knew was coming. Her skin formed a hypersensitive layer and the skin on her wrists and ankles burned where they were tightly strapped.

She again made her plea to Anton. "I don't know where anymore facilities are. I swear I'd tell you if I did."

Anton frowned. "How did you know the one you gave me? Had you been there before?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Then, how?"

She fell awkwardly silent.

"Get started," he ordered.

She frowned. She'd thought they already were started. Instead, the bald man pulled up a chair beside the table and lifted a box. She heard the contents clink metallically. She twisted, trying to see as a guard moved and lifted her shirt, exposing her bare back. The bald man opened his box and removed a long, silver needle.

"This box is full. You can tell me now, or you can tell me when he gets done," Anton said pointedly. There would be no in between. No mercy if she gave in midway through.

She clenched her teeth and looked at Anton. "No matter what you do, it won't change that I don't know!"

Anton stared at her expectantly as the bald man drove the needle harshly into a shoulder blade setting the surface skin afire and intensely stinging the muscle beneath. Tears came to her eyes and she screamed. The sensation didn't end and she realized he'd left the needle in. She swallowed another cry.

"Just consider for a minute," she began, and her voice quivered, "the possibility that I'm not lying to you. That I truly don't know what you want. Think about what you're doing."

Anton stared at her a moment, then turned to the bald man. "Let me know when you're finished." There was a tone to his voice. He didn't care whether she had anything to tell him or not. He just wanted to see her in pain. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Another needle pierced the skin of her back, burning through the surface tissues. Sharply. Deeply. Her shriek cut through the room, but Anton didn't even stop his course to the door. She buried her fingers in her palms to regain control but it was only a moment before another cry escaped her. She closed her eyes trying to seek solace in the dark. Trying to be anywhere but inside her body, listening to herself scream.

_"You don't look well, Agent Bristow."_

_She was pinned the wall, breathing heavily. "You've looked better yourself."_

_He stepped back and looked at her. "It has been a while."_

_She pulled a gun and aimed it towards his head. "Since a day before the fall of SD-6."_

_"I had no idea you were counting the minutes, Agent Bristow," he responded amused._

_"Where _were_ you when SD-6 went down?" she demanded._

_"I had a business trip in Europe at the time. I learned there was no reason to return."_

_"Wasn't there? A final assassination that you had to carry out the next day?"_

_"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."_

_"Agent Michael Vaughn. He was murdered in his apartment the day after SD-6 was destroyed. Are you telling me you know nothing about it?"_

_"Yes, that is what I'm telling you." He pushed her away from him, indignantly. "Now, either pull the trigger or aim your weapon elsewhere."_

_Her weapon slowly dropped with a defeated sigh. _

_"This seems awfully important to you, Agent Bristow."_

_"I'm not an agent anymore," she corrected._

_"What are you doing here?" He gestured towards the study._

_"I could ask you the same thing," she responded, straightening. "There's a guard just outside in the hall. I doubt you were invited to this party."_

_"And you must be on the guest list by an alias," he responded. "I'm sure Dimitri Zhukov would be interested to know who you really are."_

_"What are you talking about, Sark?" Sydney questioned._

_"He knew your mother," Sark responded. An amused look crossed his face then vanished. "But if you didn't know that, then what brought you here?"_

_Sydney hesitated. "What do you care?" She moved to a filing cabinet, flipping through the folders._

_"Perhaps I can assist you."_

_Sydney frowned. "Why would you want to help me?"_

_"Why wouldn't I? If you're no longer an agent of the CIA, then I see no reason for there to be any animosity between us. I am more than willing to forget the past. And you definitely look to be in need of some assistance. You lost this friend more than a year and a half ago and still seem almost clueless as to who is responsible. What brought you here?"_

_Sydney sat down in the desk chair and began opening drawers. "Zhukov appeared on a list of people Vaughn was investigating before his death. I was trying to figure out why. Now unless you have an answer, I doubt you can really help me."_

_Sark moved to the computer and inserted a disc. "You believe this investigation could be another motive as to why he was murdered?"_

_She nodded, ruffling through the drawers and shoving them closed._

_Sark tapped a few keys, copying information to his disc. "Was everyone on that list ex-KGB as Zhukov is?"_

_Sydney looked at him. "What?" She sighed. "I don't know."_

_He ejected his disc, placed it in a case and pocketed it. "Are you certain you wouldn't like my assistance?"_

_She stood. "Who do you work for now, Sark?"_

_He gave her a crooked smile. "Myself."_

"_Look, I have my own leads to follow for now." She started towards the door and stopped. "If I wanted to get in contact with you…"_

_Sark took a pad of paper off the desk, ripped off a piece and wrote on it. He held it out to her. "You can use this for six months."_

_She took the paper and slipped out of the study. _

Her throat was raw. She still felt the needles piercing her back but didn't scream. She wanted to, but she couldn't.

Her voice was gone.

Through hazy vision, she could see Anton talking. His voice carried across the room and filtered through her on a delay.

"Any answers?"

"No, I think she'd give us a location by now if she had one."

"She's not screaming anymore." He sounded disappointed.

"She can't, sir."

He briskly crossed the room and stood in front of her. She closed her eyes, bracing herself, a groan the best she could do. He stayed there as she opened her eyes again slowly. His gaze was fixed on her back, surely a field of reddened puncture wounds.

She trembled, breathing heavily.

"Get those wounds disinfected," he finally ordered, before turning to walk away.

_One Week Earlier_

Her eyes popped open at the sound of the door. Her arm was protectively around the boy as they lay side by side on the cot, a rough blanket resting on them both. She tensed and listened. Four sets of footsteps. Two walked to the other side of the room, lifted something and headed out of the room. Two sets of footsteps approached her.

She swallowed, sat up and looked at them. "Let him sleep. Please."

The guards nodded.

She stood up. They locked restraints on her arms and guided her from the room. She was silent as they briskly walked her to a familiar interrogation room, forced her into a chair and strapped her to it. The guards moved to just outside the doorway. It was Anton who entered and looked at her.

He gave her hard stare.

She returned it with a glare. "There was no reason! You killed an innocent--"

"Followers of Rambaldi aren't innocent," Anton growled indignantly. "You don't seem to understand. Two months and you still don't understand."

She shouldn't yell at him. She knew that. She didn't care. "What I understand is that you're all insane!" She hardly blinked when Anton slapped her. "You're accomplishing nothing!"

"I have gotten rid of a person who was no longer a reliable source of information. Because I'm not going to play games. Not with O'Reilly and not with you." His eyes narrowed. "Now, it's your turn to give me the information that I need."

She could see life slipping away from behind dying eyes. She could hear the answers he wanted whispered in her ear with O'Reilly's final breaths, but she gave him a defiant frown. "I have _nothing_ to give you."

"Perhaps the death of your cellmate has given you the delusion that the rules are now up for debate." Anton stepped back from her and gestured towards the guards. "Assure her, nothing's changed."

There was an electric crackle from behind her and she shuddered involuntarily.

Anton moved towards the wall, stepping out of the way but obviously intending to watch. Despite his cold stare, she didn't take her eyes off of him. The guards circled her, but their movement was peripheral. She recoiled as fists and batons flew at her, but she kept her jaw tight and bit back any screams.

Her focus centered on Anton in one continuous thought. _I will kill you._

She had no idea how much time had passed before she felt the straps on the chair being tightened painfully. Her wrist and hands went numb. She watched the figures move around in front of her. They mumbled to each other in low tones, then closed in on her again.

Anton stepped forward. "We need the location of another facility."

She gave him a defiant glare. "I will tell you nothing," she managed through clenched teeth.

"Then, we'll continue." Anton stepped back.

An older man with balding hair moved forward with a small case. He pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid, and filled a syringe. "Hold her head still," he ordered, with a French accent.

She tried to bow her head but immediately four hands were upon it, twisting it to the side and exposing a patch of neck area, where the balding man inserted his needle. She didn't dare move then, in fear of him hitting something vital. He made the injection quickly and she tried not to wince.

She shuddered, unsure what it was. Her head was released and she watched the man in front of her through blurring vision. He just stood there watching, apparently waiting for something. She tried to swallow as she pondered exactly what but her mouth was too dry. Then, it came, a weird sensation across her skin. As if she had a strange new layer of heavier epidermis.

After several awkward minutes, the balding man looked at his watch and nodded.

The guard on her left moved towards her again, baton in hand. She tensed, preparing herself, but instead he raised a hand and touched her bare elbow. She involuntarily let out a hiss of pain. She tried to get a look at the guard's hand, looking for something unusual. Instead, the guard on her other side ran his hand across her forearm. Heat seemed to rush to the area as if his hand was a flame. The original guard grabbed her by the arm and a shriek of pain resounded through the room. _Her_ shriek. Her skin was hypersensitive. It hurt to be touched. Contact with anything felt the same as being too close a fire.

The balding man watched smugly. He'd just given the guards brand new powers. They could set aside their batons and not even exert any energy. The thin, cheap cloth that she froze in her cell wearing was warm and heavy across her shoulders. Where the elastic of her pants dug into waist, the skin seemed to be swelling. She tried to steady her breathing, but her she could feel her heart beat pulsing erratically, and false echoes of it pulsing in her neck, behind her left eye, in her right ankle, and vaguely in both arms.

Another location was all they wanted. She had a location she could give them. But they'd just killed O'Reilly. How could she even think about giving into them now?

They released the straps and pulled her from the chair. There was a sudden sting against one of her cheeks. Her eyes focused enough to see a guard pulling his hand back from slapping her. The entire side of her face burned as though it had been set afire. Her eyes watered. The force of the blow sent her towards the floor. She caught herself on her hands and knees but tried to stand as quickly as possible. Resting her weight on just her hands and knees made the floor feel like hot coals against her skin.

Anton moved in again. "A facility location."

The guard behind him eagerly directed a kick at her. Huddling to protect herself was as painful, if not more so, than the actual kick.

Anton knelt down and grabbed onto her arm, tightly. He twisted it; she winced. "You will give me another location, or you'll get another dose."

She made her opposite hand a fist. The burning across her knuckles was worth the blood that trickled from his nose. He shoved her away with him with enough force that her back collided with the wall. She groaned and sunk to the floor.

The guards moved to grab her.

Anton shook his head. "No. She'll pay for that later. Right now, I just want my location. Get the baby."

She swallowed, her eyes flying to him.

He noticed. "Unless, you have something to tell me."

Her jaw tight, she breathed heavily through her nose.

Anton gave her an expectant look.

"Madrid," she breathed, after only a moment.

"If you're lying to me-"

"Sark has a facility in Madrid!" she said louder.

Anton nodded. "We'll see what de Soto thinks of that." He turned to the guards. "She doesn't move." The balding man followed Anton out the door.

She remained in her sitting position not wanting to give the guards any reason to move towards her and trying to rest as little of her body against the floor as possible. She didn't know how long it was she was sitting there, but slowly, she began to feel the heat go out of her skin. It was only tingly to the touch by the time Anton returned.

"Take her back to her cell," he said.

A guard reached for her but she maneuvered away and brought herself into a standing position. Cuffs were secured to her wrists and she was ushered out of the room. Back down the maze of halls and into the cell.

She looked around the room wearily. She looked around the room cautiously then started towards the cot where the baby was lying. She thought he was still asleep, but as she got closer, she realized he was face down on the cot, curled into a tiny ball. "Hey," she whispered, softly. She ran a hand across his back gently, but he was rigid. His hands covered his eyes. She pulled on his arm trying to get him to look at her. He moaned, plaintively.

"It's okay, it's me," she said gently. Why was he like this? Was it because he'd woken up to find her gone? Or had one of the guards come in and woken him up? Had he had a nightmare? She rubbed his back trying to soothe him. He whimpered when she lifted him up, trying to keep his face covered with his hands. She cuddled him as best she could as stiff as he was.

She stroked his hair, rocking him, hoping he would relax in her arms. His hands came down from his tear streaked face, but he remained stiff.

He wouldn't go back to sleep.

_One Hour Earlier_

She held the child against her chest tightly, rocking him. She sat on her cot, her back against the wall, trying everything to get the child in her arms to stop crying. She stroked his hair, his head nestled in her neck. She whispered in his ear, keeping her eyes closed. "It's okay. You're okay." Over and over again. If she could convince him, perhaps she could convince herself.

The ten-month old boy's cries finally lessened to whimpers. She wasn't sure if she'd actually comforted him or if he was just too exhausted to cry anymore. He was finally going to sleep.

She opened her eyes and they were immediately drawn to the sheet covered body on the opposite side of the room. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes again. "It's okay. We're okay."


End file.
